The World is Not Enough
by Synoir
Summary: A Dark Marauders Story. One is the scion of a Noble House, one is a rich and arrogant kid, one is an outcast, and one is a lonely boy. Together they are the Marauders. They want it all and the World is as good a place to start as any. [For Mature Readers] [Multiple Pairings] [Warnings Inside]
1. Preface and Prologue

**PREFACE and WARNINGS**

This story changes things. And I don't mean this lightly.

I've taken characters from canon and I used them to serve my idea, and they have become something _else._ So you may find your favourite character doing things you don't approve of, and read opinions on them that you don't agree with. Just a disclaimer though: I am not trying to create a medium for my opinions. I'm just telling a story.

If you don't like these themes and concepts, please, don't read. Keep yourself happy. Read things that you'll enjoy.

If you are curious to see what I've done with this, welcome. Hope you'll enjoy the ride.

 **Trigger Warnings: [There won't be any further warnings] Strong Language. Sexual Situations. Violence. Mentions of Sexual Abuse*. Murder. Torture. Mentions of Addiction (Alcohol). Domestic Violence.**

 ***** _To clarify; main characters (the Marauders) will not be the perpetrators of the mentioned sexual abuse. Sometimes that's a no-no for the readers, and wanted to clear that up._

 _Feel free to contact me for your questions from my ffnet profile or Tumblr (synoir)_

 _Synoir, 2017_

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

Remus Lupin lived in a tiny cottage up on a hill with his mother and father. The cottage was ten miles away from the nearest village, had two rooms, one bathroom, a living room and a small kitchen.

They were poor, Remus knew that, but he didn't really mind it until recently. After all, he didn't have any use for money himself. He was not allowed to go to outside anyway so he wouldn't be able to buy candy or books. His father and mother often talked about how they lived before him; they were respected and had a big house that Remus barely remembered. One day, one of his father's enemies found that big house and inflicted Remus with a curse, changing their lives forever. His father lost his reputation first, then his job and money and finally the big house. Remus didn't really remember how it came to be, but he knew, if you asked his father, he was the reason of it all. Remus didn't ask his father about it because, in _his_ opinion, it was his father's fault to taunt a werewolf pack leader and not properly protect his son. The wolf in him believed, as the strongest of their pack, it was his responsibility, and Remus agreed. His opinion though didn't matter.

When he turned eleven and the impossible had happened and he, a werewolf, was accepted to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had heard his father wonder to his mother if Remus even deserved to learn how to use a wand. He wasn't sure if he hated his father before that or whether this was when he started to hate him. Remus knew that Lyall Lupin only gave in because of the insistence of school's headmaster Dumbledore. He idly wondered sometimes what he would have to do in return for this favour, after all, everything he gained in life was in return of something. He could only go to the market in the village with his mother if he didn't talk or touch anyone, he could only get dessert if he acted _human_ (and to his father many things that Remus did was not) for a week, he could only read his father's books if he helped his mother with the cleaning; the list was endless.

Remus hated being poor only when Lyall Lupin took him to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies and didn't even allow him to browse any of the shops. Instead, they directly went to a second-hand store at the end of the alley and bought robes too big for him, books used too poorly, and equipment too worn out causing Remus to wonder if they would be safe to use. He hadn't made any fuss though, in case his father changed his mind.

His wand, at least, was new. A beautiful piece of art; eleven inches, cypress wood with a core of dragon heartstring... It was the most beautiful thing Remus owned, and better yet it was completely his: it chose him. He, Remus Lupin the werewolf, was a wizard.

In the week that followed Remus read his schoolbooks front to back; he memorised potions and their ingredients, practised wand movements and incantations, learnt everything he could about magical history, astronomy and care of plants. He loved reading and learning even before that, but now he was going to use his knowledge and that alone was enough to fill him with a brand new excitement he never knew before. Remus was a logical kid, and he knew he must have been lacking in social skills, so the idea of being in a school full of people that he would have to share living spaces with unnerved him. He would have to avoid having friends unless they noticed he was a werewolf, but he didn't care. He still would be the best wizard that he can and surpass his father who kept on reminding him even if he graduated from Hogwarts he wouldn't have a place in society. What his father didn't understand though, was that Remus didn't need society. He didn't need anyone if he was better than them all.

* * *

James Potter always knew that one day he would go to Hogwarts. Still, when an owl brought his acceptance letter his mother Euphemia celebrated it with a big chocolate cake, and his father bought him a brand new Quidditch pitch model. James loved his gift, even though he didn't understand the logic behind it. After all, he was leaving for Hogwarts soon and wouldn't be able to take it with him. Not that he complained, no, he was too busy planning game strategies and watching the little figures on tiny broomsticks play it out. His father would watch him by the door of his room, with a glass of brandy in his hand, as James shouted directions to the tiny figures on broomsticks that flew around the miniature pitch and proudly state that his son was such a Gryffindor. James wasn't sure what loving Quidditch had got anything to do with Gryffindor, but he was used to it. According to his father, many things were related to Gryffindor. Yes, he was used to it, but it still worried James. Not that he was a coward. No, James knew he could very well be a Gryffindor, and he was almost sure that he was no Ravenclaw, nor a Hufflepuff. But sometimes he imagined being a Slytherin and he liked the idea. After all, James was not his father.

Fleamont Potter was a genius of potions, but he sold the rights to his great invention and never tried to invent something else. James figured if the hair potion that he hated with all his being (and that his mother insisted on using on him) made that much money, what else his father could do. But, no, his father lacked ambition and that disturbed James. It also disturbed James that his father seemed to think that cunning was a bad trait; that it somehow made a person unapproachable while some of the best things in life required cunning: a good prank, a winning quidditch strategy, knowing when and who to ask when you wanted something. What disturbed him the most though, was that his father kept telling him Potters were always Gryffindors, as if he wouldn't be a Potter if he was placed anywhere else.

These worries, however important for him, were not in the forefront of his mind when his parents took him to the Diagon Alley to shop for his school supplies. After buying the necessary equipment his father gave him a bag of galleons and a bag with _featherlight_ charm and told him to finish shopping by himself; they were tired. So while his parents sat down on a coffee parlour James went to buy his books. Along with his school books, James bought a book called _Curses and Counter-Curses_ even though the spells in it were probably above his skill level, and another called _Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks._ When he saw the title _Best Quidditch Matches of the Century_ he added that to the pile as well. James was used to being by himself and doing things on his own, he preferred it in fact. His parents were usually too distracted or couldn't keep up with him. When he went to pick his wand by himself though, he wished someone was there by his side. A mahogany wand with a core of phoenix feathers had chosen him and James never felt prouder his entire life. ' _Great for transfiguration, but I doubt you will have problems with any kind of magic with this one_ ,' Mr Ollivander had said.

He looked at his wand, by himself and he grinned. He was a wizard now, and he didn't need anyone to witness it for it to be true.

* * *

Blacks, in Sirius' opinion, were not a small family, and the Friday before his journey to Hogwarts they all met in his parents' townhouse at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Everyone was dressed in fine dress robes and while the ladies enjoyed his mother Walburga's garden full of poisonous flowers, the gentlemen were talking in the smoking room. Sirius knew that this get together was in his name only on the surface, Blacks met like this quite often. Still Orion and Walburga Black were keen on any opportunity that would allow them to be the hosts, for the honour usually went to Sirius' grandparents Lord and Lady Black who resided in the Blackhall in Wales.

Being a member of the House of Black meant that you were the top of the Wizarding World; it meant that you were not merely pure, but also nobility among them. And being the first-born son of your generation meant that you were the Prince of the Wizarding Britain -and that was Sirius Black: the promise of the continuation of their Ancient and Most Noble House. Due to that both Sirius and his little brother Regulus were highly cherished additions to their family. His uncle Alphard didn't have any children, while his uncle Cygnus only had daughters. When Orion and Walburga Black's union gave the family two sons the Blacks took a relaxed breath. It had never taken that long to sire scions before.

Bellatrix, the eldest daughter of Cygnus and Druella, especially doted on the Black Brothers, and Sirius loved his animated cousin in return. She had insisted that she should buy his school supplies for him from her allowance, and nearly had a row with Orion. Sirius' father thought it was unbecoming to allow someone else provide for his child; it was his responsibility. In the end, his father allowed Bellatrix to take Sirius to Diagon Alley but everything that they would buy for his school needs would be paid by him. Bellatrix and her little sister Narcissa, who was a fifth year in Hogwarts and needed to shop for school herself, took Sirius and Regulus to the alley for a trip that quickly turned out to be one of the best days of his life. After buying his school supplies, Bellatrix took them to Obscurus Books and bought any and every book the brothers wanted. Yes, Regulus was much more excited about that, but Bellatrix took it to herself that Sirius should work hard on his magic since he had a wand now, so she added many books on dark curses and charms herself. After tha, they had lunch and ice cream, and during that Narcissa gave Sirius a detailed report of every Slytherin that was in school right now, and what were their strengths and weaknesses. She had an innate talent when it came to conversation so even the potentially boring topic enraptured their attention. Then Bellatrix held Sirius' hand and took him to the Eeylop's Owl Emporium, and bought him a grey great horned owl, all the while promising Regulus to get him any pet he wanted next year, _promise._

On the 31st of August, Regulus tried to make Sirius promise to write him every other day, and after long negotiations it was decided that Sirius would write him twice a week. That day Sirius also got invited to his father's study, like many times before.

" _Blacks are always Slytherins,_ " Orion said, " _do you know why?_ " Sirius wasn't sure but he suspected it was because of their noble blood, or at least that was what his mother always said. But his father explained it differently. He said that a Slytherin could have any trait of the other houses, but above all it had the ability to control those traits. Bravery, loyalty and intelligence meant little if you didn't have self-control over them.

" _And we must, Sirius, be the masters of ourselves."_

* * *

When Peter Pettigrew got his Hogwarts letter his mother cried; his father gave him is congratulations, accompanied with a rare smile; and Peter felt accomplished. It didn't matter if he never was a successful student; that didn't bother him; after all he already proved his worth. He was happy. His accidental magic was never showy, and it came a bit late. His father always complained about it. Peter knew that his mother had a squib sister; only mentioned in whispers in their house, like it was some sort of dark secret. Peter thought that maybe it was. He also knew that she was afraid her son would be one too. But the Hogwarts letter proved that he wasn't; and that made his mother extremely happy. This meant she would bake a pie or a cake as she did whenever she was feeling particularly cheery. His mother's baking was one of the rare things that created an almost festive environment in the Pettigrew household.

She didn't bake only once though. Strawberry shortcake, chocolate tart, blueberry muffins... Everyday from the day he got his letter until the 1st of September she baked something else. Suffice to say Peter was having the time of his life; never before was he the cause of such happiness.

His father was the one that took him to Diagon Alley instead of his mother and Peter relished in this newfound attention from him. Sure, Duncan Pettigrew was not the most entertaining man; he rarely smiled and he criticized everything, and most of all he criticized Peter, but he walked like he was the most important person around, and Peter believed him. He believed, when he bowed to two beautiful young ladies accompanied by two boys of his age -all beautiful looking; enough to make Peter jealous of their beauty; Peter thought it was because his father was a gentleman. One of the boys looked at Peter and grinned before continuing his walk, and Peter believed that he was respected. He felt important; as his father.

They first bought his wand; his father thought it was the most important purchase in their list. When Mr. Ollivander offered him a redwood wand with a dragon heartstring core Peter looked at his father with a smile on his face. The wand felt warm, and there was a nice tingling sensation from the wand spreading through him. The wand had chosen him, and his father looked _proud of him._ It was the first time Peter saw that expression from his father.

They dutifully continued to their shopping. They visited the _Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment_ and _Slug & Jiggers Apothecary_. They even had a lunch together in Diagon Alley after buying his robes from Madam Malkin's, and his father let him order whatever he wanted instead ordering in his stead as he has done whenever they went out to eat as a family. Being treated like this was new to Peter and he enjoyed it. His father told him that he was a wizard now; and Peter forgot all his resentment towards him that he held before, like the feeling never existed in the first place. That gave him a little sparkle of courage and he asked his father if he could have a pet.

His father first told him that he could have a cat, but cats seemed to dislike Peter. Just as he was losing hope to ever get a pet his father told him that ' _perhaps they should go to Eeylop's for an owl instead.'_ Peter didn't expect his father to ever get him an owl; they were more expensive than cats, and the family already had an old owl named Primus.

They found a little owl that seemed to love it when Peter petted her head. When they went back to their little house, Peter looked around his room full of new things and a beautiful owl he smiled at himself. He spent his days playing with his owl; which he named Effie; and helping her mother with her baking streak.

Life was good and he couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts.

He was happy.

* * *

 _ **Many thanks to Calebski who is the alpha-reader of this story. Her help and support is invaluable, and made it possible for me to begin posting this story.**_

 _ **Special thanks to JJ25601 for beta-reading the Prologue back in February and encouraging me to continue working on this huge undertaking!**_


	2. Waiting

**01**

 **WAITING**

"I believe that the most Muggle-loving wizards, blood traitors as my family likes to call them, are just too caught up with the romantic notion of discovering another world, and ignorant of the real threats that Muggles create."

"You don't call them blood traitors yourself?" said the man sitting on the velvet wingback chair.

Sirius was calm and collected, at least on the surface. He concealed his fear and excitement of being in the same room with Him. The man's face was distorted; his skin was opaque and smooth in some parts, and in others, it reflected the colours around him like a diamond. The fractured nature of his skin and the almost red shine in his pitch black eyes did not make the man ugly. He still had a marvellous bone structure, he was tall and lean that was underlined by graceful, fluid movements. He had such a way of being, Sirius was sure he'd be the centre of attention in a room with a thousand other people for just that alone. But that wasn't all. The man's magic could be felt from so far and it had such unique substance. It was almost touchable. Lord Voldemort was the only one of his kind. There was never one like him, nor there would be ever again. He radiated such darkness that if one were at a constant war with it, it would be terrifying. But when you knew the beauty of it, when you knew that darkness carried every colour in it and you have learned to see it, like Sirius, it was a purely magical experience. And Sirius grabbed that idea with all of his being, completely believing it to prove the Dark Lord that he was to be a loyal servant for him.

"I don't feel the need to put them all in the same category, my Lord," Sirius answered to His question. "I think being a blood traitor requires more than loving Muggle literature. There is a great difference between ignorance and deliberate treachery. One can be re-educated, if they are worthy of the effort, while the other should be cut out. Obliterated."

The Dark Lord laughed. It was a cool sound: an anomaly. Sirius bowed his head respectfully to acknowledge the laugh. He did not laugh along, of course, like Godfrey Goyle was doing.

 _Vermin,_ Sirius thought, _sycophantic vermin_. It mattered not, of course, Goyle wasn't smart nor he needed to be. He was a useful tool. Rich, head of a prominent House, and scary looking... What more could be expected from a lackey? Sirius pushed his thoughts about Goyle out of his mind and re-focused his attention to Lord Voldemort. He had to keep his mind clear. This was his opportunity to show his worth beyond being the future Black heir, and therefore the time with the Dark Lord was too valuable to focus on details like Goyle. Of course, just having the surname Black was enough for Lord Voldemort to mark him as his own. But being just any follower was not enough. He had to be important, otherwise this whole 'loyal to our Lord' façade would be an annoyance and an unnecessary danger. This meeting was crucial to gain his first standing. It was as important as the difference between a pawn and a knight.

"Elaborate," the Dark Lord ordered.

"It's a simple idea at first. A wizard sees something a Muggle invented and is enchanted by it: _how did they make it without magic? A mere Muggleborn came up with this? How this works without magic?_ " Sirius waved his hand in the air nonchalantly. "It starts with curiosity, as I've seen my Lord, wonder. But there lies the danger because wonder is an attractive thing while the truth behind it is ugly. If they knew the truth, I'm sure many Muggle lovers would change their ways. It has been proven time after time that they are destructive, and many. Muggleborns mock us because we use quills, yet they advertise we use these contraptions that do not dissolve in nature to write. They complain that magic is not responsive to electricity, yet electricity is what makes it almost impossible to stargaze. Muggles are the reason we are hidden because they simply can't handle knowing there are us, stronger than them, and they are not the head of the food chain. Not really. I think real treachery is in knowing all that and ignoring it. But many just wonder without the desire to reach the core of the problem. Why is a very important question: why do I think Muggleborns are vermin? Because they are the parasites of our world, and dangerous to all of our existence."

"So you say we educate these... Muggle-lovers?" Voldemort asked and Sirius straightened, showing what he was going to say next was important.

"Education is everything," he stopped and met his Lord's eyes. _Look inside my head,_ he thought, _and see what I mean. See how much I hate Dumbledore, the man who controls the_ justice _system as the Chief Warlock, foreign relations as the Supreme Mugwump, and education as the headmaster of a school. See how disgusting I find that he controls everything so openly, yet people believe him to be a man of integrity. I much prefer a tyrant, a King, than a liar in disguise of an honourable man. See how far I would go to see our world triumph. See how much I'd risk_ to prevent _our world from falling the trap of the so-called wonders of the non-magical. See how much I need people to see the danger of Muggles, and what would I do to stop them from destroying us._

There were many different techniques of occlumency and Sirius was never good at hiding something completely. The more he tried to hide, the stronger the images in his head would become. But he was very good at filing emotions, ideas, perspectives into his mind and burying the truth under them. He would truly feel those emotions, he could convince himself to be devoted, to be hateful, to be in love for any amount of time. There were no lies; just the fluidity of emotions laced with absolute truths... Which made it one of the best methods for occlumency, also the least expected one.

The silence was impenetrable as the Dark Lord sifted through Sirius' mind, and he allowed him. He allowed him to see almost everything. He allowed him to see Remus, James and Peter and how useful they'll be. James, of course, was already in line for a meeting of his own. But Remus was a half-blood and a werewolf. Even though the latter was a secret, it was impossible to keep it from the Dark Lord. And Peter, well, he was hardly someone to look at twice on the surface; Sirius was sure that the Dark Lord would recruit him eventually but he needed it to happen fast. Almost all of Peter's great accomplishments were secrets, which was by itself his greatest achievement. He couldn't start bragging about him though; it would only make the Dark Lord believe he was exaggerating. No, he needed Him to be curious about Peter. He should ask about him himself.

Sirius needed his friends, and he needed the Dark Lord to accept them. It was crucial. It was all of them; had to be all of them. On the plus side Voldemort, the genius that he is, was so easy to bait. He believed himself to be superior after all, so when he searched for Sirius' motives and seeing how his friends backed them would make him naturally curious. Sirius even let a tiny fragment of himself with Remus, oh so awfully close together but not exactly doing anything, slip. The image was laced with a tiny feeling of panic that he stored in his mind and created a rather obvious occlumency shield. He needed, after all, to show Voldemort that he was capable of closing his mind as well.

"Tell me about your friends."

 _Hook, line and sinker..._

"My friends, my lord?" he asked carefully.

"I've heard you are a member of a particular group already, should I assume you'll have mixed loyalties?"

Sirius laughed, like one laughs at a King's joke: without overdoing it, one laugh and one echo.

"We have become rather memorable with our little group, my lord. Though there is no need for us to have our loyalties mixed. James Potter is already a ward of the House Black, or was; now of course with his parents' unfortunate demise, he took upon his father's responsibilities."

"Yes, I heard it was dragon's pox, very unexpected," the Dark Lord commented as he took a sip from his tea. One sugar, no milk; Sirius had noted earlier; and served by a thin man with a posture like a stick. Lord's personal valet. Sirius had no idea who he was, but he was sure to learn soon as possible.

Sirius allowed a secretive smile reach to his face: much unexpected indeed. The deaths of Euphemia and Fleamont Potter were carefully planned and executed of course, though he wasn't stupid enough to mention it aloud.

"Yes, it really was," he said instead and continued: "Remus Lupin, of course, has the unfortunate situation of having a Muggleborn mother. But Lupins were, and I believe still are, a very prominent family in France. I believe with Lupin, Potter and I we made a name for ourselves. It is very surprising how calling it a prank makes studying for certain spells very easy."

"You forgot a name. You do not believe Mr Pettigrew as important as the rest of your friends?" Dark Lord asked. Of course, he asked. Sirius could jump on his chair with glee if he didn't have the self-control he possessed.

"On the contrary, Peter is a crucial part of our group. Everyone has roles to play, after all. I'm aware that the Pettigrews are not an important family," and who knows what do they have in their bloodline, Sirius added mentally. "But Peter has... unique talents, and I would trust him with my life."

Voldemort caught his eyes and looked into his mind again. Blacks were not known to venture outside of their family when it came totrust, especially not to half-bloods and children of people in some forgotten post in the Ministry. He knew, of course, what the Dark Lord was seeing: Peter's unwavering loyalty, his quick-witted escapes, his smooth lies; Remus' genius when it came to Arithmancy and his natural talent for the Dark Arts and combat; James' extraordinary transfigurations and his experiments on cursed objects... Sirius knew by the end of this mind reading, Voldemort was curious about the Marauders at the least of it. It was enough for now. More than enough...

* * *

When Sirius was finally free to go from the gloomy manor that belonged to Abraxas Malfoy the Insufferable he was drained because of the occlumency performance he had to put up for so long. Thinking of the headache that was waiting for him tonight was enough to put him in a bad mood despite the small victories of the evening.

He and his friends had decided to join the Death Eaters for a romantic sense of duty to the wizarding world, of course, it surely wasn't because of the name of the group. It wasn't a matter of loyalty to Voldemort, but in the times of war staying neutral was useless and ineffective. Dark Lord and Dumbledore weren't too different. They favoured different kind of spells, of course, but both were tyrants. Sirius hated Dumbledore just for the principle of it: Voldemort knew what he was, and Dumbledore believed himself to be good. Censorship, controlled education, and advertised ignorance. All Dumbledore had against Voldemort has been that the Dark Lord had no qualms about killing people who stood in his way. But every revolution calls for blood and death; one did not bring change by sitting in a comfortable office and voting. Sirius strongly doubted that the Dark Lord would be the one true king; the man's experiments may have had destroyed his sanity, after all. He would follow, but he knew the man's narcissistic tendencies would destroy him one day. He was almost certain that the man would bring his own end. They would barely need to do anything drastic to destroy him once the war was won. And they had to win the war. Dumbledore couldn't be allowed to win, not again. He took over almost all of wizarding world under his supreme rule after defeating Grindelwald and if he were to win another war... Sirius didn't want to think about an invincible Dumbledore. He was much more dangerous than Voldemort. People that were named a hero always were. Even their deaths were dangerous.

* * *

Serpent Cottage was in the middle of nowhere and was warded with countless layers of magic against intruders. It was the perfect safe house for the four Marauders, but the nearest safe apparition ground was in fifteen minutes of walking distance thanks to the wards that Sirius Black the First had put up. Sirius normally didn't mind the walk, he even enjoyed it; but today, after meeting with Him, every step he took felt like another hundred. Every passing moment he convinced himself to carry on, to keep going, that home was right there and it was safe.

 _Safe._

Such a feeling was hard to come by nowadays. No one was truly safe. Even his Cottage, given to him by his Grandfather as a graduation gift after his Uncle Alphard died without any heirs, with all its wards and protective charms was not truly safe. Blood Magic could be fooled if someone was determined enough, Fidelius could be broken if you killed the Secret Keeper, other charms could be broken if you knew how. But still, the Serpent Cottage was one of the safest places in Wizarding Britain. At least its existence was a secret. Even that made it safer than most.

When he reached the green painted wooden door he touched the knocker and the door opened wide by itself, granting entrance to the master of the house. Sirius felt the tension and even some of the tiredness leaving his body as he entered and the door closed behind him with a satisfactory thud. He closed his eyes and leant on the door, taking deep and long breaths, until a familiar scent filled his nostrils.

* * *

Remus had watched as Sirius entered their home and saw the men sag against the door with closed eyes. Remus could relate to that. He too had felt tense all day, in fear of his best friend and lover's life. He wanted to go and hug him, grab him near, show his fears; but looking at Sirius now he knew that the man needed someone to be stronger. Remus' distress wouldn't help him feel better and he was the one spent an afternoon with the most dangerous creature alive.

Remus straightened his shoulders and determinedly walked towards Sirius, entering his personal space without invitation. Sirius' eyes snapped open, fixing them on Remus almost challengingly. Remus knew that challenge was, in fact, nothing but a plea, a call. Their relationship was not one that would be called normal. It was a challenging and ever-changing dynamic that evolved around the two of them. Remus loved control, and Sirius loved letting that control go, at least when he was with Remus. If he had a particularly hard day, Sirius would look at him in the eye, without an ounce of fear knowing that it would push the wolf to act on it. Remus should have known this would be such a day.

He reached and held the back of Sirius' neck firmly with one hand and watched as Sirius let a shaky breath go, the defiance in his eyes softening.

"What do you need?" Remus asked in a tone that he knew would draw obedience; a loving, sweet, warm obedience; from Sirius.

"Fuck..." Sirius breathed out. Remus knew he didn't mean it literally, but he might as well have.

"Good choice," he said with approval and when Sirius whined like a puppy he kissed his lips firmly. He would never stop enjoying this power exchange between them. He pulled Sirius into the living room and pushed him to the sofa, him falling on top of him without allowing Sirius to jump back up. He sniffed his neck and assured himself that, yes; he was there, under him, where he is supposed to be. Alive and well...

Many things could have gone wrong today. Sirius could have failed at concealing his mind, he could have insulted the Dark Lord involuntarily and suffer the consequences, he could have made a mistake... Who knew what the man would find insulting? He could have tortured Sirius, or imprison him, or use the Imperius Curse... Sirius could have been dead today.

He held on tighter, one hand reaching under Sirius' clothes, the other firmly holding him down... He didn't bother completely undressing him. There was something they both liked in Sirius in his traditional robes, dressed as the perfect pureblood scion allowing Remus to do as he pleased with him. They were taboo. If not because they were both men, then because they were a Black and a half-blood; and if not that; then because one was a werewolf and the other a wizard...

They would have to rewrite the world if they wanted to be something more.

* * *

It was a proper thing to do, James thought. Sitting on the porch of the Serpent Cottage, drinking Elf-made wine, and pretend like the world wasn't about to burn. They would be victorious or dead. The game, for all intents and purposes, had begun. They had no allies but themselves. Listening to Sirius tell them about his meeting with the Dark Lord earlier that day had been intense. They were most likely in, Sirius had said. Marauders were future Death Eaters. A morbid title to have next to your name: James Potter the Death Eater, he thought silently, James Potter the Dark Wizard. James Potter the murderer. James Potter: Evil. Because that's what they would think of him... No one would ask him why before accusing him. He wasn't sure if he would ever be ready for that. He tried to imagine Lily's face when she would eventually see the Dark Mark on his arm; it would be distorted with disgust, she would recoil from him, try to run away –to create some distance between them. It was the only thing that made him feel unsure. It was the only thing that he was truly afraid; even though it was a numb sort of fear. No; it wasn't even fear, was it? Had he ever felt fear? True fear? No, not really. James knew that he was incapable of feeling it. He remembered realising it for the first time when a bludger hit him so hard he fell down from his broom. There was no fear as he started to fall down. He thought about dying then, and he knew he didn't want it. But he was calm, he didn't scream; he just wondered, rather lazily, if he would feel the impact when he eventually landed or if the pain would be too much for his brain to register. So no, James was not afraid of the future. He didn't feel fear.

But he did feel love. He loved ferociously. He loved his friends. He loved Lily Evans. He would have to lose her love if it was there at all ( _does she love me_ , his mind asked each and every time they'd seen each other, _does she love me?_ ). He didn't panic when he thought about it. It wasn't fear, it was worse than that: it was waiting. Waiting for the day she would tell him to leave and never come back. And James Potter would give anything to be afraid instead.

"Are we bad people?" Peter asked suddenly interrupting James from his morose internal discussions.

"No," Remus said from where he was sitting, Sirius' head on his lap.

"Are we good people, then?" Peter questioned, and this time Sirius answered with a laugh:

"Not bloody likely."

"I think we are necessary people, Wormtail," James said slowly. "I think the world needs us, because if we don't interfere there are only two possible victors at the end of this road. And who is going to stop that, if not... If not us; the Marauders?"

"I, for one thing," Sirius started lazily. "Don't want to silently await my turn to become the Head of my House, and spend my life until then as my father's apprentice on the Wizengamot."

"And I don't want to find a werewolf pack full of half-wits just to be able to survive," Remus added.

"I want to be more," James said. "I want the world."

"More than," Sirius spoke up.

"More than," they all agreed.

And there was no fear. Only waiting.

* * *

 **Many thanks to _Calebski_ , who is the alpha-reader of this story.**

 **And the** _ **JJ25601**_ **for beta-reading this chapter so long ago!**

 **I have always planned to post the Prologue and the 1st Chapter within the same day. I plan on weekly updates from then on, but no promises!**

 **Your reviews, as always, are what I look forward everyday!**

 **Synoir**


	3. An Illusion of Camaraderie

**02**

 **AN ILLUSION OF CAMARADERIE**

Only one was admitted.

They took Sirius first and James watched as the door opened and his best friend, _brother_ , walked into the ritual willing and unafraid. Then... James heard his screams. They didn't come immediately, in fact, it took quite some time. James didn't know what the steps were for the ritual; neither did Sirius before he entered. He didn't know, yes, but he could hear what was happening. Even the warding couldn't silence the horrifying sounds Sirius was making. He could hear the noises gurgling in his friend's chest before leaving his mouth in shattered cries. James felt his heart gripped by an inexistent hand as anger consumed his being. He wanted it to stop, to hell with everything. He wanted to charge into the ritual room, head first and challenge them all for hurting him.

 _Almost like a Gryffindor_ , he thought scoffing. He had to keep his calm. Wait for it to be over. They knew it would hurt. Sirius had warned them; told them that that sort of magic would never be easy to endure. They would be branded, much like cattle. James was just glad that Remus wasn't here today, hearing this.

When the screams ended James could hear his own heartbeat almost vibrating on the walls of the hallway that he was waiting in. A few minutes later the door opened and James came face to face with a Death Eater wearing a mask; he could only tell that it was a he because of his posture. The man didn't say anything, just allowed entrance. James took a step into the room and saw that aside from the man who opened the door there were five more masked figures standing. The first Death Eater walked and took his place next to his friends, creating a line of people facing James. There were no walls, just shadows and a thick sense of concealment.

"Give us your name," they said at the same time, and James knew this was the beginning. The ritual had begun; he could feel the air shift.

"James Fleamont Potter," he answered; his voice firm and without fear. _Don't think I won't take it back._

"Do you wish to join our Lord, James Fleamont Potter?" they asked at the same time.

"I will join the Lord, and I will serve," James swore.

"May you be welcome," the voices spoke at once for one last time.

"You must shed your clothing here," James heard a voice say. _Rabastan,_ he recognised.

James took his shoes out first and the moment he set them aside flames erupted. He looked at the fires for a few seconds before continuing to undress. Each piece of clothing met its end; burning until nothing was left of them and as the flames grew the black shadows that concealed the rest of the room vibrated and moved as if looking through a ghost. James could almost see or maybe feel what was beyond the darkness. He hesitated for a second before taking his glasses off and throwing them into the fire.

"I will hold onto your wand until you become one of our own," he heard another familiar voice, one that belonged to Evan Rosier, say. He turned towards the voice and tried to see the eyes peeking out of his masked face, he calculated where they would be and focused on that blurred spot as he gave his wand away. That made the six people in front of him parted as if they were a door and he just turned the key, and they came together with the Circle that was revealed as the veil of concealment started to lift. James could feel the Magic flickering around them, condensed into the Circle. Even without his glasses on he could almost see the black, smoke-like line that appeared when the six had found their places, but even if he couldn't he would feel it: the connection, the bond that tied them as they channelled their magic in one of the most ancient and forgotten ways. And in the middle of it all, _He_ stood.

 _His_ presence was like a brick wall hitting him. It was almost like the first time he apparated, only worse. He remembered jumping into the Black Lake in January, because of a dare, and how the cold knocked out of his breath the moment he had entered the water. Still, maybe because of his instincts that came with being an animagus, or maybe because he was used to protecting his friends, he first looked at Sirius. Only when he didn't spot him did he return his focus on Lord Voldemort and twelve Death Eaters around him. With James and the Dark Lord himself, they made fourteen in total. Again, James eyed the people surrounding him. Seven women and seven men they made. How convenient. _How telling._

"Welcome, my child," the Lord spoke. "Come into the Circle, if you can."

It wasn't the voice that he heard when he met the men for the first time. It wasn't the voice he heard when he was asked if he wanted his mark. It was something new, something deeper into the magic. It resonated a colourless and sad sort of darkness. It was hollow. And it presented him with a challenge, a dare. He had to mean it to be able to enter the Circle, he had to carry no malicious intent towards it, and he had to become a part of it.

Magic was essentially Will. The Words were there to channel the Will of the wizard, and the force of your Will was what determined your strength. Strong wizards and witches knew how to reach within themselves and grasp that _core_ , like opening a box, or maybe like moving boxes and making the change within you that unleashed it. For some this was a natural talent like Lily had; for some, it took practice, like Peter. The difference was that naturals tended to rarely know _how_ , and they blindly went with their instincts. In James' opinion, if you were a natural and learn how to grasp that core, that meant something; that you could be great. But also he knew that being able to control, and consciously unlock your Will meant much more than being a natural. It wasn't something you could learn in a day, but James had always been self-aware. So he reached into himself, and at that moment he was more than what he was born as. He felt his magic stirring around him, and he focused it on the circle: to be one with it; to be allowed within it. He could feel his aura shifting its colour to the darkness that bonded the Circle.

"My Lord," he bowed his head and entered the Circle.

It beat once; _are you what we want?_ , asked the Circle.

It beat twice; _can you bear our force?_

It beat thrice; _welcome._

And with that it settled itself around him, making him a part of it. He was connected to the ritual, and to the rest of the people who created the Circle. He could feel the Dark Lord's presence even stronger now; it was consuming him, for it wasn't just _His_ magic but of everyone inside the Circle, and perhaps, of everyone ever marked by him. It was a force that could crash his being, but at the same time, the Circle was protecting him. It was a bubble created by the Will of the Death Eaters: focused and full of intent.

James watched as a masked woman came near him, and her movement didn't affect the Circle's strength, he could make out the blurry lines of the black magical cord remain intact, and she presented him a silver goblet.

"Drink this," she said and James took the goblet without hesitation raising it towards the Dark Lord once, and drank its contents. The potion was bitter, and its effect agonising. James fell to his knees and felt invisible ropes holding him, pressing him to the ground. The goblet fell and the _clink_ _– clank –clonk_ of its meeting with the ground echoed in James mind as it was the only sensible thought. It was as if he was stripped of his ability to make an idea appear.

He watched like it was not his body, as his arm was pulled forward, facing the ceiling. It did not make sense to him.

 _Why,_ he asked his mind.

 _Clink – clank – clonk,_ his mind answered.

 _I can't move,_ he warned his brain.

 _Clink – clank – clonk,_ his brain said to him.

The pain had no intellect and panic bore no thoughts.

 _Help,_ he thought.

 _Clink – clank – clonk_

James screamed feeling the poison coursing through his body. But not because of the pain, _was there even pain?_ Thoughts were fleeting, as he came close one idea it ran away from him. There was nothing but the need to run, to go away, and to scream.

He knew his heart was beating. He didn't know why his heart was beating so hard, hurting his chest... It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. There was no sense.

His arm was burning and it was being carved. Flaming ropes were squeezing every bit of his skin. But it was nothing compared to the endless unknown.

And the Unknown wasn't black. It wasn't a forgotten memory. It was seeing and not believing. It was millions of images, memories, and feelings suddenly not existing. So James screamed in agony, despair and frustration. He didn't beg, he didn't know how -he didn't recall there could be words to wish it to stop. He wasn't stripped of awareness, but awareness meant nothing as he just looked around, saw yet did not _know_.

* * *

The room he woke up was warm, comfortingly so. The light was a warm orange creating soft shadows on every surface. He was lying on a comfortable dark blue divan with brown and red cushions around him. As his mind registered his surroundings, it also registered the burning pain on his left arm. He groaned, disturbed by the sensation. His bones had been broken in hundred different ways over the course of his short life thanks to his Hogwarts Quidditch career; he could handle pain. He just really, really hated the feel of a burn. He knew he'd yelp like a girl if his tea was too hot, and feeling like a hot iron was pressed onto his arm was the worst sort of pain he could imagine.

"It hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" he heard Sirius' voice before seeing him.

James let out a morose laugh. "That's an understatement."

His friend sat by his feet on the divan, wearing the same robes that he had seen on other Death Eaters. It looked perfectly sleek on Sirius, and made James realise his own nakedness, save for a thin blanket covering him. He pulled his arm out and looked at the mark that was burning his skin to settle. It looked angry, eerie... It looked like it was moving yet it was perfectly still; an illusion, a trick of the light.

"Your robes are there," Sirius said pointing towards a small table. On it was a mask, his mask now, lying on top of a black bundle that could only be the robes. By the feet of the table stood a pair of black dragon hide boots. "First they cloth us... Then they will feed us. It's only proper. Oh, and here are your new glasses."

James nodded, took the glasses from Sirius and rose to his feet, suddenly feeling dizzy and cursing himself for not taking it slower. The new spectacles were almost identical to his old ones, so he wore them gladly. He waited a few moments so the dizziness would fade and only continued his advance towards where his robes, _his uniform_ , was waiting for him when he was sure he could without falling down. His nakedness didn't make him shy away from Sirius, nor Sirius avoided looking at him because of it. He simply walked to the small table and examined the mask. It represented that he was now equal to all the other Death Eaters. They all wore masks; it didn't matter _who_ they were. They were all the same. Yet it showed his rank. A poetic balance of imbalance... Another illusion... The best way to make a man into a follower. _You are one of us_ , it said. _You are equal to us all,_ yet you could be better. If you worked hard enough, if you _deserved,_ your mask could have embellishments: a carving there, a silver mark here, and you became the inner circle. It was empty for now, unblemished, smooth, _virgin._ A beautiful ploy, a chaotic yet elegant dance...

He put it aside for now and wore the black trousers that fitted themselves to his size perfectly as he donned them.

"Very nice, they make your bum look just edible..." Sirius' mocked him.

"Mind your own business Black," he said eying his friend who grinned without an ounce of shame.

Still, James looked to the full-length mirror that stood near and had to agree with Sirius if he were honest with himself. The robe was long and had buttons on the side from its high neck to the hip, and then flowed down from there. It would allow easy movement during combat while looking very traditional in rituals. He took the leather belt that a holster was attached to and wore it, happy to find his wand in it.

"I can add a nice little charm to that holster," Sirius said. "To make it impossible for anyone to grab at your wand. I imagine Evans would try at least once. We wouldn't want her to succeed."

James sneered at his friend, and without meaning the sentiment he said: "Fuck off."

Sirius laughed, James could hear the tension behind his laughter but he doubted that many others could. He knew Sirius was worried; as a Black being a follower didn't come naturally to him. They would talk about it of course, but later, when they were safe in the Serpent Cottage. Instead, he asked:

"What was in that potion?"

"Something to prevent you from registering the pain," Sirius answered.

"To prevent me from registering anything, more like..." James said mussing his hair. Sirius nodded and James saw the distant look in his friend's eyes. James could understand what bothered him. He didn't like to think about the potion himself. He had seen everything but he just didn't _know_ what he was seeing. It had been... _unnerving._ Because deep down he knew he should have known. He shivered remembering the dreadful feeling, not being able to trust his mind, even forgetting the existence of a mind that he trusted. If he hadn't been fasting for the marking, he knew the contents of his stomach would rise to his throat just by thinking about it. He wanted to _forget_ it ever just wasn't sure even if he forgot the experience, he would remember the feeling. Forever. He was sure he would have nightmares about it in the future. He rather thought every Death Eater must.

The sudden bang of a door opening interrupted his thoughts and James found himself clutching his wand tightly, but relaxed once again when he saw who had entered.

"I am _proud_ of you Siri!"

Bellatrix Lestrange walked into the room like she owned the place, went directly towards Sirius with her arms open wide and hugged him. James couldn't help but smile as the two embraced each other, Sirius' face disappearing from sight as Bella's long waves covered it. She then turned towards James with a huge smile.

"Jamie," she said, making him feel like a little boy again. He quickly went to her and lifted her with his arms.

"Bella, love, you look gorgeous," he said and kissed her cheeks.

"You are such a flirt," she said with a giggle. "Don't let Roddy hear you!"

"Oh we both know that he would huff and puff at my face then watch us fuck like jackalopes on your marriage bed, and enjoy every minute of it."

Bellatrix tilted her head to one side with a grin, as if considering what James said.

"He _does_ like to watch," she said.

"Merlin _and_ Morgana, James. That's my cousin!" Sirius exclaimed.

"So is your Mother to your Father, Black," James said chuckling as Sirius made a rude hand gesture.

"Oh, how I missed my boys," Bellatrix said laughing, but then she immediately turned serious, as she is wont to do. "But enough, they are waiting for us to dine."

"I am starving," Sirius said, undoubtedly happy with the shift of the conversation. "I _hate_ fasting."

"Do not complain, cousin. You are dear to our Lord," Bella admonished. Sirius eyed Bellatrix.

"I heard it is _you_ that's dear to him Trixie."

"Gossip, Sirius?" Bella smiled, although she was unable to hide that she was proud to hear it.

"Come on, Sirius," James said cutting his response. "You and I both know if there is a _deer_ among us, 'tis I."

* * *

Seven witches and seven wizards sat together around the round table. James found it fascinating, with all his grand ego and his superiority, the Dark Lord still included himself as one of the seven wizards. But one thing even more fascinating than that was that he was _smiling_ as he ceremoniously broke the bread and gave the larger piece to Bellatrix, who was sitting next to him. The bread was passed to Rodolphus from her, and then to Coventina Selwyn; who James knew as a Ravenclaw a few years older than him. The bread continued to be passed from a witch to a wizard in silence, and when everyone had a piece they all ate it in a singular movement made by many.

Then the food was served. Sirius had been right; _clothe us and feed us, indeed._ James watched the table, watched all these pureblood wizards and witches of almost all ages that wore identical robes started to eat in perfect decorum. There was polite chit-chat, and James listened to _everything_ and by the slight angle of Sirius' head, much like his animagus form, his friend was doing the same thing.

No one was discussing murdering muggles, no one was declaring hatred for muggleborns. People were laughing, raising their glasses to their Lord, as their Lord accepted their salute respectfully. _"My friends,"_ the Dark Lord called them, making James' stomach turn.

It was a show.

The moment he thought it he could feel the Dark Lord's gaze on him, he automatically raised his head and suddenly he was looking into the man's pitch black eyes. Was the red in them a trick of the light? James nodded his head and raised his glass, _we all have parts to play, my Lord,_ and the Dark Lord smiled.

"It would be wise to take your Father's seat in the Wizengamot when you turn one and twenty, James," the Dark Lord told him, using his first name with familiarity. As if it wasn't an order, but an advice from an old family friend. His voice carried over the table, above the chatter. He was in control of the conversation, even from the other side of the table.

He was always in control.

"That is among my plans, my Lord," he answered, gulping down the vintage elf-wine that was served with the main course smoothly. "Even though Mr Black is doing a splendid job as my proxy."

"I agree," the Dark Lord said, as he cut into the beef on his plate. "It was a smart move to appoint him. He is close to our cause, and his heir is one of us now."

Their Lord smiled generously towards Sirius, who accepted the gesture with humility. It was a rare thing to see one of the Blacks act as such; they didn't have a single humble bone in their body. _The Dark Lord must know it_ , James thought, he must enjoy how Sirius is accepting Him as his superior. _It would be magic if it were real._

Sirius' wasn't. He wasn't capable of falling to his elbows and knees; _well,_ _except for Remus_ ; and follow orders. He would never accept that a single wizard could be his better. Not even the Dark Lord. But, even though they were worse than the Malfoys when it came to self-importance, they were also notoriously loyal. It surely increased Sirius' worth in the eyes of their Lord. _What increases mine?_ James thought.

He looked around the table, filling his head with the chatter around him. _"It will be good to have you in the Wizengamot, James,"_ Lucius was saying. _"It is a rather important duty, considering the shamble it's in nowadays,"_ he answered with practised ease. It was an easy conversation to clutter his mind. So he could observe. So he could understand.

Each and every one of these people was from an important House, or at least had a long family history and they all gave their loyalty to Him unconditionally... Their whole magic, their core was given to this man, and he was sucking it into himself. It was both beautiful and terrifying to watch how this man had pulled all of these powerful people who could have anything they wanted without him into his fold, making them forget that they were capable of doing what he did. That was the crux of the matter. They had forgotten. But wasn't it how men were? And it wasn't as if James didn't want to be there. He wanted it with all his heart; that was why it had even been possible for him to enter the Circle and be marked. After all, war is won with allies.

James sipped his drink as he chased the thought that followed away:

 _And lost by traitors._

* * *

Arcturus Black did not enjoy being wrong.

He especially despised it when he was wrong about someone's potential. It was unacceptable when that disappointment was his grandson. The eldest of his eldest: the heir to his family; who was now sitting before him in his study for their weekly debates.

He had raised the boy! He had invested his time, knowledge and _hope_ in him. His son Orion was a politician, a debater... He was smart enough. But Arcturus had thought Sirius was _more_. His intellect had shown itself from a very early age. The boy had started to read fluently at the age of four, and he never forgot anything that he read. He learned quickly and effortlessly, he understood logic and surprised him with his talent of applying it in different mediums. When he started Hogwarts, he allied himself with the only scion of Potters; which was more than his son Orion could. Thanks to him, James Potter, only living member of his family had become a ward of House of Black. The political pull of that position was irreplaceable. No, Sirius had done well for the family all his life. He proved himself capable of critical thinking, he had shown great magical prowess way above his peers and had become the promise of a good future for his House.

"So you have bowed down to a man who dares to call himself _Lord,"_ Arcturus said, with every ounce of control in his body. He would not raise his voice. He had refused to fall down to anger.

"I have," Sirius said with a cool calmness. It was not the Sirius he knew. Sirius that he knew would answer anger with anger. Not with this... _act._

"You are a Black! Have you forgotten? First Bellatrix, and now you!" He rose to his feet, steady but inside he was shaking. "You are the _second in line._ When I die, you are to be the heir to our _House_. How _dare_ you defile it by accepting another man's rule over... _over mine!_ "

"I thought you'd be pleased," Sirius said.

"Pleased?" Arcturus couldn't believe his ears. He had lost his grandson. He had lost the young man, _the boy_ , he had raised to the propaganda of a man that did not have a House, not even a family name. Yes, the man's agenda wasn't something Arcturus was necessarily opposed to. But he was not a Black. "You thought I would be pleased? You thought I would be pleased that you have accepted a Lord over me. That I would be pleased you are now branded like cattle in a Muggle farm? Perhaps you thought I would be pleased that you are risking your life to fight in a stupid war?"

"The war, stupid or not, has come, grandfather. And you know what will happen if Dumbledore would be victorious," Sirius met his eyes, and there was something new in them; something that scared Arcturus. "He would use his influence to destroy our family. We are _Blacks_. We are his enemy. Don't you for one second accuse me of betraying my family!"

Sirius suddenly jumped up from his seat, standing eye to eye with Arcturus.

"I am doing this for our House," his grandson said, _and there is the man I know,_ Arcturus thought _. "_ The Dark Lord has to win, and once that happens..."

Arcturus watched as his grandson stopped talking, huffing a breath out of his nose.

"Once he wins, what?" Arcturus asked. "You will accept his rule over you? What choice will you have?"

Suddenly Sirius laughed.

"The Dark Lord," he said with a hint of a smile, turning to him. "is very powerful. He has accomplished to channel great amount of magic, Grandfather," Sirius' stare was boring into him now. "Too powerful."

 _Too powerful._

Arcturus exhaled, realising what Sirius was _not_ saying. The Dark Lord's days were numbered. He would either lose the control of his magic and mind, or slowly decade. He had seen it happen. He had seen it happen with Lycoris, his sister. She had never learned where to stop. Her skin had crumbled first, she hid it with glamours. Then her mind had slipped. That was the real danger. A steady mind is the only thing that can control Dark Magic. It is addictive, after all, and you never had full control over it, not if you molded it into your signature. He had watched his little sister kill herself slowly. When she was found dead, finally at peace, she looked nothing like the beautiful woman she once was. She had withered.

" _That_ powerful?" he asked Sirius.

"Oh, yes."

* * *

 **Endless thanks to _Calebski_ for being the best alpha that I could hope for.**

 **She brings out the best in me as a writer!**

 **Synoir**


	4. Young and Impressionable

**03**

 **YOUNG AND IMPRESSIONABLE**

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _September 1975_

Remus looked at the green and silver badge in his hand, maybe the tenth time in the last hour.

 _Prefect._

It made no sense to him. He knew Slughorn didn't pick him. Remus was basically invisible to the man, what with being a werewolf _and_ terrible at Potions. It should have been James or even Snape. He was sure the Potions Master would pick one or the other, and if by any chance the man didn't pick them there was still Sirius. All of them were members of the _Slug Club_. Remus wasn't. Yes, he was an accomplished student by all means. He knew that. He knew if there was anyone but Slughorn as their Head of House he wouldn't suspect the damn badge as much as he did now.

But Slughorn _was_ their Head of House and Remus knew that he was not _his_ choice.

"Ogling your new shiny, Moony?" James said as he jumped onto his bed.

"I'm not ogling it."

"Glaring at it more likely," Sirius said from where he was sitting at the foot of his bed, his gaze on the Map they were so close to finishing. He raised his eyes and looked at Remus with a smirk. "Why so worried? Afraid that the girls will notice how much of a swot you are?"

"No," Remus said with a sigh. "I'm worried about what I owe Dumbledore for the privilege."

"It's Slughorn's decision," Peter piped up from his bed next to his.

"You think Dumbledore intervened," James declared though, and Remus simply nodded.

"Of course, he did," Sirius said, sounding distracted. "I'm pretty sure James was the first call, actually. It would make sense. He is the son of Fleamont Potter; the potioneer of the frigging century; and people listen to him." He looked over at his friends, his voice much more focused now. "I bet Dumbledore gave him being the Quidditch Captain this year as the reason to refuse, then without giving a chance for Sluggy to consider he pointed at Remus. And you know how Slughorn is. He wouldn't think a second before agreeing." He gave a noncommittal shrug and turned to Remus, his hand rising with a general gesture of indifference. "But so fucking what? You are a Prefect now. It's great."

"Yeah, fucking great," Remus said bitterly. "What happens when my rounds come around the full moon? _Everyone_ will notice something is up."

"I'm sure Dumbledore will fix your rounds accordingly, Moony," Peter said.

Suddenly angry, Remus jumped up. "But that's just it!" he said starting to pace the room. "He will. He is controlling my life, can't you see? ' _Come to Hogwarts_ _little werewolf. I'll plant a rare and expensive tree for you to our premises and create a myth that the old house in Hogsmeade is haunted. I'll make you a Prefect, see, you can be normal too.'_ I am not, though, am I? I'm not fucking normal! I just want him to stop interfering with my life!"

Remus felt the wolf stirring by the end of his rant. He covered his face with one hand and sighed into it. He was tired of feeling out of control. He was tired of others pulling the strings and he was tired how his wolf side showed itself without his calling for it. When Sirius got up Remus stared at him; warning him with his gaze. Inside _Moony_ was growling, and no matter how much Sirius was part of his pack, he shouldn't be moving closer _._ Thankfully, Sirius immediately stopped. Something he wouldn't do if he did not complete his animagus transformation, Remus was sure. But since he had become a canine Sirius seemed to understand _Moony_ much better.

"Let him," he said and Remus looked at him, this time he actually growled. But Sirius was undeterred. "I mean it, Moony. Let him interfere. Let him think you owe him. I know you hate giving up control, but don't you see? You are _not._ He doesn't know that you know what he's doing. He wants you on his side, but he won't get you. You are in control."

Remus exhaled slowly.

 _I am._

* * *

The Slytherin Dungeon had rules and although none of them was ever written they were still the law. People who were sorted into Slytherin were, more often than not, groomed to be here. Which meant they knew the law. The rest, however, had to be smart enough to figure it out quickly or they'd become the bottom of the food chain, and climbing up from that was not easy.

Sirius was the only one in the dormitories of their year who really knew how the cogs of Slytherin turned. Instead of using it against them, though, he taught them. All but one: Severus Snape. " _I never heard of that surname before._ _Snape... Are you continental?"_ he had asked him during the feast and Severus had sneered at him. Maybe today, Sirius would figure out that he was being an arrogant little shit. But back then to a Sirius Black who was raised sheltered by the most die-hard of the pureblood families, it was a grave insult. He hadn't taken it well.

The enmity between Snape and the Marauders only increased over the years. Remus even respected the greasy git. He was thrown into the same cage with four others who hated him when he was eleven and held his head high. That was the end of it, though. Respect or no respect, if the greasy git would sneer at him one more time he was going to break his neck.

Remus knew Snape wanted to be a Prefect. The title meant a great deal, after all. It gave a certain amount of power, and to Slytherins power was everything. Not that it bothered Remus to get something Snape wanted. Quite the contrary... Snape had made it his duty to figure out ' _what was wrong with'_ Remus. They were sharing the same dormitories for the last four years and he watched the Marauders like a hawk watching its prey. And in return, Remus enjoyed every little victory against him as a general rule.

He raised his head to glare back at him. The boy's face was contorted in disgust and his eyes travelled from Remus' face to the badge on his chest. Remus was glad that Snape broke eye contact when he did since he was not sure for how long he would be able to stay calm in face of that challenge.

* * *

Regulus watched as Severus Snape glared at Remus Lupin. It was stupid. Sure, Snape deserved the title himself. But all the fifth year students of every house had exceeded all the expectations. Even the mudbloods of the year were exceptionally strong and academically advanced. Did he really _hope_ to be a Prefect? No one liked the boy except Mulciber and Avery, and the latter was only interested in him because the Dark Lord was.

Regulus knew it. He knew many things. It came with being the _spare_. No one paid him much attention. Sirius was perfection in every way. He was smarter than Regulus, more handsome than Regulus and most importantly, older than Regulus. All of which could make Regulus hate his big brother, but Sirius _was_ perfect, even in Regulus' eyes. Why bother hating him? There were much more important things. After all, he had realised the advantage of being the spare early on. He had perfected the art of being the spare. He watched. He learned.

Regulus knew that his brother was an animagus, for example. Although he wasn't positive if he actually finished the transformation, he had noticed the mandrake leaf Sirius carried in his mouth, and since he hadn't repeated to process the only conclusion that remained was he indeed managed to turn himself into an animal. Accepting failure was not like Sirius. The knowledge was useful. Not to use against his brother, and if he wanted to Regulus could. Since it was obvious that Remus Lupin was a werewolf (and it was a mystery to him that how people still didn't know) it would be logical to assume that Sirius had decided to study the art of animagi to help him. If their mother heard a whisper to indicate as such, Sirius would be, well, in serious trouble. But Regulus was not a snitch, neither did he want to replace Sirius. It was against everything the Black Dogma stood for anyway. Loyalty was honour. It was deeper than what Gryffindors thought of loyalty, or even different than Hufflepuffs. It was indubitable and it did not rely on point of view. A Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff could be convinced to change loyalties. They could be shown the _right_ way, whatever that meant. But a Black's loyalty superseded any and every vow that they may take upon themselves. A Black would go far and beyond to remain loyal to whatever they chose to follow. And Regulus knew that Sirius' loyalty to the Marauders was almost, maybe completely, on par with his loyalty to his family. It was done, and there'd be nothing that could be done about it other than accepting it as such. Regulus idly wondered if the family Magic would accept his loyalty towards the Marauders once Sirius started to carry the Ring of the Black Heir. He remembered his father mentioning the Black Magic being susceptible to the Ring Wearers' wishes; that the Magic would listen to them, as much as the Wearers listened to the Magic. " _It's a partnership,"_ his father had said. " _One that you would need to honour to the highest degree."_

His father's words resonated in Regulus' head. He felt the urgent need to abide by it. As if he was in a trance he lifted his head and saw Lupin finally returning Snape's gaze as if he was about to jump out of his chair and strangle the odd fifth year. _Not strangle,_ his mind not so helpfully supplied. _Tore his throat out, more likely._ He sighed and gave into the intuition that was tugging at his mind. He put the book he was pretending to read on the table that was reserved for fourth years, knowing no one would dare to touch or steal it, and he moved towards Athelstan Avery: Snape's friend. Which was lucky for him, since the sixth year was one of the few people that would listen to Regulus' advice in the upper years.

He stopped by his side and Athelstan raised a single eyebrow, turning from Isobel Broadmoor. The girl was the other fifth-year Prefect, Sirius' old fling and Avery's current. She was a beauty with large blue eyes and brown hair, and admittedly, very distracting boobs. _Bosom,_ Regulus corrected himself and controlled his breathing and preventing a rush of blood to reach his face to make him blush. He bowed his head towards her in a show of respect. Not that he actually respected the girl; he was rather indifferent towards her if one ignored the occasional inappropriate thought about a girl he never talked to; but because that's how a proper wizard acted when they interrupted a private conversation. Broadmoor wasn't a Prefect for nothing, Regulus assumed she was smart and was pleased when it was confirmed when the girl kissed Avery's cheek and mumbled something about a book she needed to check.

"What can I help you with?" Avery asked as Regulus sat next to him. It was fine, people would assume he was asking Avery something about a class he was taking since Regulus was known to be inquisitive. It made interacting with people who are not his regular social circle inside the school much easier.

"You are aware, that Remus Lupin is my brother's friend," he said and Avery seemed amused at the question. _Everyone_ knew the Marauders. "And I know you are cultivating Snape for some reason." To that Avery's face went completely blank. "I don't want to know why, but if you want him to remain alive for whatever purpose you have for him, I suggest you make him stop challenging Lupin. The end of it is a duel, and that won't end in Snape's favour."

The blond smirked. "What makes you think he will lose?" he asked. Regulus shrugged.

"He may or may not. But then, if he won Sirius would come for him and if he won _again_..." He looked at Avery, silently asking him what would happen to a half−blood if he were to harm the scion of his House. Avery sighed and nodded.

"'I'll talk to him."

Regulus watched Avery as he rose from his chair and walked towards Snape. Athelstan was smart to cultivate the Prince descendant. He was the only remaining of the Prince bloodline, and as an Avery who was probably as knowledgeable on having that much power in one's blood as Regulus, Athelstan befriended him by taking him under his wing. Blacks had lost that chance when Snape and his big brother became fast enemies. It was such a shame. Of course, it didn't help that Severus was still talking to that mudblood that James Potter pined after, either.

At first, it had been a mystery to Regulus why Severus Snape wasn't one of them. He would be easy to cultivate. Half-blood or not, since it was obvious purity was not what his brother sought after, and if Lupins were worthy of cultivating so were the Princes. Regulus had tried his luck during his first year, knowing who Snape was from the beginning unlike Sirius. The boy had sneered at him and called him _Baby Black,_ and Regulus decided it wasn't worth it. Not that he was truly offended. He knew Snape treated him as such because of his brother. Still, an insult was an insult, even though his disgusting Muggle father was surely to blame for his lack of manners, it was still an undeniable fact that Regulus was a member of a Sacred Twenty-Eight, and as much as the blood traitors thought that list was rubbish there was a reason it was titled _sacred._

Still, as tactless as Snape was, he had managed to have allies, even though one of those allies were Mulciber. Yes, Mulciber was a pureblood, at least _mostly_ pureblood and his father was a known figure in some important circles, but the boy himself was an absolute idiot with a cruelty that even his cousin Bellatrix would not approve of. _Well, maybe not Bella,_ Regulus corrected himself as he walked back to the fourth year table to get his book. Mulciber disgusted Regulus, but when you were Severus Snape you did not have the luxury to nit pick your allies. Regulus was sure he hated Mulciber too but was smart enough to hide it.

Regulus smirked when he noticed that even though all of his classmates were trying to fit around the smaller of the tables in the common room his seat was untouched. He sat back on it and opened his charms textbook as if he needed to learn the spells in it: it helped when your peers thought you were on their level.

"Have you finished the Transfiguration essay, Reggie?"

He smiled at the girl who called for him, even though he hated the overly familiar nickname. "Yes, Esther," he said keeping up with familiarity. "I can give you the list of my resources if you want?"

The girl blushed and thanked him. That was new, and Regulus briefly considered flirting with her but quickly decided against it. She wouldn't do, not even if he kept it a secret. If only she wasn't a half-blood...

* * *

Sirius walked into the common room barely before the curfew and looked around the place to see who was where. Regulus was studying at the fourth year table and Remus was sulking sitting on the couch in front of the fire. Sirius frowned wondering what brought it on and checked if Snape was anywhere to be seen. He really would like him to be the one that bothered Remus into an another episode of brooding but unfortunately Snivellus was nowhere to be seen. He walked and let his body fall down next to Remus and gave him a muffin he nicked from the kitchens.

Remus looked at it and frowned. He still took it though and started to eat.

"Don't you have rounds tonight?" Sirius reminded him.

"Oh, hell, what time is it?" Remus groaned.

"Little bit before the curfew," Sirius shrugged. "Do you want me to come with you? I can ask James for the cloak."

Remus shook his head and got up. "You can't. Dumbledore is one of the professors that will be on the patrols today and you never know _where_ he will be." He was obviously disturbed by it and he didn't even try to hide it. "I swear he always sees under that cloak," Remus hissed leaning towards Sirius and making him take a whiff of his scent. Musk was the only word that came into Sirius' mind when he tried to name it. It was very strong, stronger now he completed his animagus training, which was something he hadn't expected. He was also more in tune with Remus now. It was as if something drove him to listen to him, and it became so much harder to not seeing him for long periods. During the summer they didn't have much chance to come together and it had been much harder after his first animal transformation with him to stand his absence. Sirius tried to look into Remus' eyes like he used to and the brown orbs with gold spots were staring back at him. He lowered his eyes towards Remus' lips, which did nothing to calm Sirius down, but at least he didn't feel like he was disrespecting Remus anymore. The werewolf didn't seem to notice. "He probably uses a wandless _homenum revelio_ or something like that. We really need to find a way to mask the cloak from him."

"I'm not sure if it can be done," Sirius said trying to break the daze he was in. "The other enchantments we tried to add never held. There is something about that cloak and I can't be sure what."

Remus shrugged and straightened, making Sirius watch his movements even closer. What was it that made Sirius want to always watch Remus? There was that particular angle of his arm when he put his hand in the pocket of his trousers. Or how his hips were placed due to his slightly forward left foot. What was it so aesthetically pleasing about all that?

"Well, I think we should still try," Remus said. "I'd feel much more comfortable if there was no chance of the cloak getting discovered by Dumbledore. I just get really nervous when he's around when we are under it. You know... Like _all_ of my instincts are telling me to _hide hide hide_ and..." He stopped and sighed. "You know what? We need to talk later. I really must be off."

"Right. Yeah." Sirius got up as Remus started to move. It felt so wrong to be sitting down when he was leaving somewhere alone. He immediately felt stupid when Remus looked at him wondering what was he doing up. "Since I can't go with you, I should go upstairs and see what progress James and Pete have done on the Map," he said, creating a cover that would turn not to be a lie since he would do exactly that. "They were supposed to work out a way to layer Wormy's disillusionment charms with Prongs' tracking spells and... They probably could use my help."

Remus nodded and shrugged. "Good luck on that." And he walked out of the common room, leaving Sirius to fidget anxiously. Every bone in his body was screaming him to follow Remus, be right behind him. Just on his heels... He took a deep breath and broke out of his stupor. He didn't like these feelings. He didn't like them because they felt natural, and he enjoyed them when he was actually able to follow Remus' lead. He found himself listening to his words like they were orders and when Remus smiled at him he felt _proud_ and since when _Sirius Black_ felt proud of doing the bidding of others? It was disturbing especially considering it became his second nature to do so. It was disturbing because it entailed more than just following his lead.

 _Don't be stupid, Black,_ he chastised himself as he turned towards the dorms. _Of course you don't fancy Remus._

* * *

Remus walked the corridors slowly. He generally hated being a Prefect, except it made it possible for him to get away with doing certain things. It was a waste of his time, plain and simple. People didn't want to be Prefects to have more responsibility. They wanted it because it looked great on job applications but that was a moot point in Remus' case. Nothing would make his job application great, or even make it applicable. He had given up hope to find a respectable enough job, but since then he had also made bigger plans than to have a good career. So to Remus being a Prefect just meant a big chunk of his time that he could use to work out how to stabilise the floor plans on the Map or maybe work on finally turning that drying charm into a curse that can be used on living organisms to be wasted on patrolling the halls, watching over Slytherins and taking house points.

He sighed. He just _hated_ this whole thing with vengeance. They didn't even ask him, just sent him the badge like he should be honoured and even if he had a chance to decline, he hadn't really look for it and now that he was here in the empty corridor, walking without the aim to achieve something profound. He would much rather he'd remain in the common room with Sirius and chat him up. He was acting different since summer and he really wanted to figure out why.

Remus was worried about Sirius. Maybe it was because their bond was so much stronger since his friends had gained their animal forms, and they weren't used to it yet. Remus was much more relaxed when with them, and that was unexpected since he didn't realise there was any room to feel any more comfortable. Since their first year they've become his family, but now they were more than that. They were... _pack,_ the wolf completed his sentence with a flash of a vision: Forest blurring around him as they ran and a faint memory of a smell that gave his human mind the idea of _wholeness._ He enjoyed that smell. It gave him comfort and something akin to joy, although human words were not sufficient to express the feeling. It seemed to Remus that Sirius was the most affected by the change in their friendship. Remus rationalised that it was because Padfoot was another canine, and wolf reacted differently to him. But it wasn't all there was. Wolf really _liked_ Sirius. Before being an animagus they were all the same in Remus and his wolf's eyes, but now it was as if his scent was the strongest and his presence a bit more profound than the rest. Sirius acted differently, yes, but Remus looked at him differently too.

He liked it. It was an exciting thing, he felt giddy and he often found himself much more relaxed when with Sirius. He had hated leaving him alone in the common room, and declining his offer to join him during his patrols. Remembering that made Remus walk faster, to finish his rounds swiftly so he could go back to their dorm and be with Sirius. Be with his pack.

And the idea was good as long as it lasted.

It was the last turn before Remus reached to the last corridor that lead to the Slytherin Dungeons that he came face to face with the last person he wanted to see.

"Mr Lupin, what a pleasant surprise."

Remus knew his stance had changed, like a startled wolf he wanted to growl and warn the _invader_ to stay away or he would tear him limb from limb. But that would be a horrible thing to do towards their illustrious headmaster. He took a deep breath and tried to rein the wolf deep inside. _I got this_ , he repeated his long practised mantra in his mind over and over again at great speed. _Words have power,_ James had told him once, _maybe if you teach your wolf to react in certain ways to certain sentences your control will strengthen in time_.

So Remus chanted his mantra: _I got this. Let me protect us. Let me protect us._ And miraculously, most of the time, the wolf listened.

"Headmaster," he said, hoping that he sounded more surprised than angry. He was the worst liar in all of Slytherin. He hated acting. "Good evening, sir."

"Yes, it is a good evening, indeed," Dumbledore said and wolf silently growled inside Remus' head, with a flash of an image of a fox that stole meat from the hunt which Remus learned to translate as _insolence,_ and all he could think was that he agreed. "I believe you are finishing your rounds?" the Headmaster asked and Remus gave him a nod and a hum, hesitant to talk in case Dumbledore caught on his distress. "I'll join you then, much better to walk with company, don't you think?"

The old man in pastel blue seemed docile enough but he was staring at Remus' eyes and he did not like that. He wanted to lower his eyes, not because he wanted to give up but rather to remind Dumbledore that he was a _wolf_ and _wolves_ did not like being stared at. But the wolf didn't allow him to do so. _He_ wanted to bare his teeth. He wanted to jump. He wanted to sink his teeth into his throat and rip it and taste his blood, coppery and thick flowing down from his neck, and enjoy as he...

Remus shook his head to get rid of the image and nodded to the Headmaster. The man looked sad for a second, but Remus knew that it was a trick. All these sentimental expressions Dumbledore made was a way for him to pretend as if he cared about Remus. _Maybe he did,_ the human thought. Wolf sent him an image of a wolf, standing high on a hill with the full moon behind it shining bright and under his feet were bugs crawling, some dead. Remus understood what it meant. He didn't _need_ Dumbledore's care.

"How are you, Remus?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm fine, Professor. Only a bit tired," he said looking towards the corridor in front of him.

"And how are your friends? I must say I found the tripping jinx you put on the corridor on the third floor. It's quite advanced: turning jinxes into charms."

Remus flushed with anger to what the man was saying, _I know everything in this school._ He coughed, hoping it would make him seem embarrassed. He was glad when Dumbledore continued without awaiting a response from him. "You remind me of myself, you know."

 _How,_ Remus thought, _how could I be anything like you?_ "Sir?" he asked, truly curious to see where the man was going with this.

"I, too, was a young man: impressionable and ready to learn. I had a friend much like young Sirius Black. We were ambitious and our minds were eager to discover new things." Dumbledore almost seemed wistful, but Remus was not ready to trust him to be genuine.

"Like Sirius?" he asked. Why did the man mention Sirius and not Peter or James? _Why Sirius,_ he had wanted to ask but could not.

Dumbledore hummed and clasped his hands on his back, walking in silence for a several seconds. He seemed like he was contemplating what to say. "Yes, young Mr Black often reminds me of him. Sharp as a potion master's knife, and proud. Still, one should never lose one's self for anyone, don't you agree?" The Headmaster stopped and turned to Remus, once again locking his eyes with his. Just like that the wolf in him was more awake than Remus could remember him being. He realised with surprise that the wolf was looking at the man, and clearing Remus' mind of any human thought, claiming his mind with such assertiveness he didn't even think of fighting it. Remus' conscious mind watching the exchange behind the curtains realised the picture was similar to the visions the wolf sent to him time to time, ideas too vague for a man to understand. Even the colours that he saw with had changed, closer to the colour of the wolf visions. He felt a little push in the back of his mind, a door for him to speak.

"I would not lose myself, Sir," he spoke softly. "But I thank you for your concern."

Dumbledore stared at him for few more seconds and Remus continued looking at him.

"Goodnight, my dear boy."

* * *

 **Thanks to _Calebski_ for alpha-reading this story. She is the best.**

 _This is the first time we see the Marauders in their Hogwarts Years. There will be a few of them, so get ready for random Throwback Chapters._

 _Next chapter we'll be back in the original timeline._

 _I hope you enjoyed reading this! As always, let me know you've been here by leaving a review. You can also reach me at Tumblr at synoir - tumblr - com._

 _Synoir_


	5. Questions

**04**

 **QUESTIONS**

Remus felt the air shift as a stronger predator walked inside the room. This setting was nothing like the ones James and Sirius had told him. They had drank tea with the Dark Lord.

Here, there was nowhere to sit. There were exactly five lamps in the spacey room and along with the fire from the massive fireplace they dyed the room crimson. The wolf was prowling, feeling caged, wanting to howl for his pack, to run, to attack. But Remus knew as long as he kept his calm, as long as he believed he could get away, he wouldn't need to lose himself in the instincts of the wolf.

 _You got this,_ he heard Sirius whisper to him when Remus was called before the Dark Lord unexpectedly, and he believed it. _I got this,_ he said to himself, and together with the wolf they straightened his back, and squared his shoulders. They were strong.

The Dark Lord was stronger, especially when Remus, when Moony, was without his pack. But he stood his ground. In the wilderness if you showed weakness you died.

And this crimson room was wilderness. The creature moved with a mixture of feminine grace and masculine boldness. He was holding his wand, allowing Remus to see it but not openly threatening. No, he didn't need to threaten anyone, did he? His presence was enough for that.

Remus didn't move, didn't lower his eyes and he couldn't, for the love of everything he held dear _,_ seem humble. The eighteen-year-old in him worried about it. But the wolf did not bend.

"I know what you are."

The Dark Lord's voice was almost a whisper, but he could have used a sonorous charm and the effect would be the same.

"I expected as such, my Lord," he said and was pleased to hear that his voice didn't quiver. It would be embarrassing to remain perfectly calm only to talk like a cowardly kid. Although, when he noticed that two other people entered the room, almost sneaking inside, he thought maybe he'd shake with anger instead. One of them was Bellatrix Lestrange, her face hidden under her mask emblazoned with carvings of rose thorns and runes, and even though the woman held no love for him, Remus knew he was nowhere in her list of people to maim and leave to die either. But the second one that entered the room was _he_.

Severus Snape.

Wearing the same robes that Bellatrix did, only cut for a man, and his mask was smooth. He would recognise the man in any attire, but this particular one made Remus' blood boil. When did the slimy weakling have gotten himself a Mark? How did he get it before Peter and him? How could he beat his pack to the finish line? Did he tell the Dark Lord everything he knew about Remus? Of course, he did: _he is a werewolf my lord, not worthy of a Dark Mark._ He growled low in his throat, it wasn't loud but it was enough to make the Dark Lord chuckle, it was a surprisingly pleasant sound and that realisation sent shivers down Remus' spine.

Voldemort knowing was expected; he was ready for it. But now Bellatrix knew too. _Fuck,_ Remus worried as the two Death Eaters took their masks off. Bellatrix' gaze fell on him, a strange glint in her eyes, and her lips a shape of a bow with a frown. That was bad. If Sirius' parents found out...

"Yes, you would, wouldn't you," the Dark Lord said. Remus remained silent, allowing him to continue as he seemed, no, pretended, to be thinking. "Tell me, what makes your _friends_ think you are-" here the Dark Lord looked at him with the corner of his eye. "Suitable?"

Remus risked a glance towards Snape. He was looking at him, a single brow raised with a smirk on his lips; a dare for Remus.

"Knowledge. Talent. My wand," he croaked at once, his mind was carefully taking in the strength of the man before him, and the wolf was almost docile in contemplation. Moony hadn't decided what to think about the Dark Lord. "I'm an excellent duellist, my Lord. I believe Severus can confirm that," Remus added. He threw a glance towards Snape, who frowned at him in anger.

"Can he, now?" The Dark Lord's voice seemed uninterested, still he too looked at Snape calculatingly for a fleeting moment.

"It's true, my lord." The voice that spoke was the one that Remus did not expect. Remus' head snapped towards Bellatrix, who slowly moved towards the Dark Lord. "I've heard of his talent."

Remus gave a nod to Bellatrix, who seemed to be ignoring him. Her whole focus was on their Lord.

"I will test that," the Dark Lord declared. It felt like there was a decision made and Remus found himself waiting for it to be spoken. "You are in luck, werewolf. I have a duty for you." Remus could feel that Bellatrix' gaze turned on him once again but he dared not meet it. "There is a wolf pack, located in Northumberland. You will go there and find them. You will convince their leader to follow _you._ If _it_ declines, you will kill him. And bring them to me. To serve me."

"Yes, my Lord," Remus said. Did this mean he'd have to join them? Be their new leader? Whichever pack that was, the pack leader would never bow down to him willingly. He would have to take the position with blood, or he'd need to convince him to do what the Dark Lord wished as a trusted member of the pack. Remus thought being the new leader was much more convenient, maybe even easier. He already had a pack, but having his own wolves would prove to be useful. This was not a mission; this was a gift.

"Good." The Dark Lord seemed satisfied with his answer. "And when you succeed, I shall see if you are half as good as Bella believes you are."

And with that, the Dark Lord was gone. No questions, no show of getting to know each other. He was given a mission and that was it. Bellatrix eyed Remus one last time, her gaze calculating, and she followed the Dark Lord. When Severus seemed to be doing the same thing Remus hurried over to him and in a moment's time Severus' wand was at his throat, but Remus was no fool. His Cypress wand was at Severus' as well.

"We are not at the dormitory anymore, _mutt_ ," Snape sneered.

"Here I thought that would encourage you to be smarter," Remus said with a grin. "I see that I was wrong."

"Even if you succeed in your mission, he won't ever Mark you."

Remus grinned. "Do you remember the sixth year?" he asked. "James had a reason to save me back then, to stop me from killing you. Do you think that's still the case? Then again, maybe I won't kill you. Maybe you'd survive the bite, would you _Snivellus_? Do you think you have it in you? I was four when I survived. Do you think you have the strength of a toddler?"

"You can't touch me," Severus hissed in his deep voice. "I'm one of _his_ followers, and what you are is a lackey."

Remus took a step back, not out of fear, but to be able to see his opponent better. "Yes, you are not a lackey at all..." he said and his wolf showed his teeth. On his face it looked like a grin. "And I'm just a mutt. Put your wand in its holster, Snape. I won't attack you here, nor would you attack me."

Severus sneered at him, but he did put his wand away regardless. There was a tense silence for several seconds where they eyed each other, and then Severus swiftly left the room, his robes flowing behind him. Remus was the only one standing in the middle of the room, and he watched as the flames roared inside the fireplace.

Now curious, he took a step towards it. The flames swirled, jumped and grew out to be desecrated animals, _monsters…_ Remus gulped, feeling the fear that had been surprisingly absent until now. It was grotesque, but not because the violence it depicted. Remus knew violence. He even strived for it time to time. But these _beasts_ were unnatural: a headless gorilla clawed at him, a creature with a desecrated human body and half of a goat head charged towards him. There were faint and crackling screams that came from the depths of fire. Remus had read about the _Fiendfyre_ , it was said that its flames took the shapes of gruesome monsters. That seemed like such a weak description now that he was watching it, aflame in the giant fireplace. He had expected that it would have werewolves in it, ugly dragons perhaps, or banshees. Those were the things the Wizarding folk named as beasts and monsters: no one told the scary stories of skinless birds sparking in fire to their children, did they? They did not mention beasts with chicken feet with half the skin fallen off, and dragon heads with burning hands instead of tongues.

No. _This_ was hell.

* * *

Sirius lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke. The sun was slowly rising: the reason he had chosen the room that looked to the East. The view was just an open field with small hills here and there, dewy grass and the change of the colour.

"Please tell me you aren't worrying," Remus' voice came between the pillows. Sirius chuckled.

"Of course I am," he answered.

"It'll be fine," Remus said. Sirius heard him moving inside the bed. "Why are you naked?"

"I'm wearing my underwear," he said turning to Remus. "They are clean too."

"Nothing like your soul, then," Remus said as he got up as well. Sirius smiled seeing that he was already wearing his shorts. He watched as Remus' lean legs came near him and then threw his arm around Sirius' shoulders. "What exactly worries you so much, Pads?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Sirius said. "Will you be safe during your journey? Will you be okay with the wolf pack? Will Bella tell mother that you are a werewolf? Everyday stuff."

"I will be safe," Remus said. "I will be okay with the wolf pack. And... Well, I have no idea about Bellatrix. You know her better than I. Or more like, you _know_ her while I don't at all."

"I'm surprised that she actually... Endorsed you, didn't she?" Sirius didn't understand that. The cousin he had would not be lenient towards half-breeds and barely tolerated half-bloods. What made Bella speak in favour of Remus?

"I think she might care about you more than you think," Remus said.

"Yes, she adores me, Moony," Sirius said shaking his head. "I still don't understand."

Remus shrugged. "We can't worry about that, Pads. We can't control what she does with the information. It's useless to worry."

"I'll see her Saturday," Sirius said. "Grandmother is having a soiree -she told me to bring a date."

Remus snorted. "And who will you take?"

"Fuck me if I know Moony, we shagged every eligible girl in Hogwarts."

"Take Isobel, she has a level head. And _her_ we never shagged _together_."

"She is still with Avery," Sirius said absent-mindedly.

"Didn't Athelstan get married last summer?"

Sirius shrugged. "Apparently Isobel moved in with them. The rumour has it she is pregnant."

"How do you know all that?"

Sirius snorted at the disbelief in Remus' tone. "Narcissa, of course," he said. "According to my beloved cousin, Isobel's cheeks were redder and fuller than normal, which must mean that she is pregnant with Avery's bastard."

"Well, you can still take her. That way she would have an escort to the Soiree. I'm sure Averys are invited, aren't they?"

"Why would I take someone I'm not allowed to shag, Moons?"

"Maybe because you'll be miserable that I am away, and won't have it in you to do so."

"I highly doubt that; I'm nineteen." Sirius grinned cheekily when Remus started to laugh at that.

"Fine, take Macdonald," Remus said with a mischievous side-glance at Sirius, making his heart pound faster. "I know that you have a thing for her."

"Yeah, I'll take the mudblood, maybe James will bring Evans and together we'll bring the death of my grandmother," Sirius said.

"I thought you'd said that she was more lenient towards muggleborns?"

"Sure she is, _children of the magical world_ , and all that –that doesn't mean they aren't _commoners_ though, does it?"

Remus started to laugh again. "Your family never ceases to surprise me. It's either one thing or the other, what is wrong with you?

"Oi, when did you see _me_ being a bigot?" Sirius said, mocking offence.

"Shall I start to count?" Remus taunted playfully. Sirius scoffed, and he felt light when both of them laughed at each other. He never really worried when he was with Remus but even the thought of him gone was enough to make him break a sweat.

"You are going to have another pack," Sirius said softly and he felt as Remus' stopped breathing for a moment.

"I'm not –I'm not replacing you, Sirius," he said.

"Not me, maybe," Sirius shrugged. "You are kind of replacing your pack, though, aren't you?"

Remus was shaking his head so resolutely; Sirius' heart went to him, believing him. But believing was not the same as knowing; to Sirius it felt as if they were natural enemies, even. Believing was the companion of doubt and unanswered questions. Who would want to believe in anything?

"I'm not," Remus said anyway, trying to make Sirius believe in him again.

Sirius turned his head, not looking at Remus.

"We do what we have to do, Moony," he said instead of responding as he started to get dressed for the day, creating a silent gap between them. It was always good to do something else if you wanted to avoid an answer you didn't want to hear, wasn't it? Since the first full moon they've spent together after the transformation he could feel Remus' presence on the back of his neck. It was a constant support that he had, something that connected them all. Remus was the centre of it all, after that day their friendship has always been tied to him. How would it feel to lose that, Sirius wondered. Remus was his guide. He looked up to him, he watched for him. He had allowed Remus to have him, _own_ him even. And now; what? Would it be the same if he would go and get himself a pack of wolves?

"Look at me." Remus' voice cut the air like a knife. For Sirius it was impossible not to notice the order that carried, so he did look. He never had a chance to refuse an order like that, not yet at least. Would it change if Moony abandoned their pack? "Do you think what you are saying is truly possible? I couldn't do that even if I wanted to, Padfoot."

His voice was calm, but that was Remus. He never needed to shout, or even talk a little heatedly. Remus was always calm, even when he was angry he would be like still water, then at times he rose and engulfed his target, a quick attack, and he'd be done. It always surprised Sirius, who was used to outbursts and loud proclamations, and it calmed him a great deal. Although this time it was different. Remus' reassured assertiveness wasn't helping him. Sirius needed to know, he always needed to know for sure, and how could he _know_ that what Remus had said was the truth?

"And why is that?" Sirius said, unable to hide his doubt and defiance. Not that it would have worked on Remus.

"Why?" Remus' asked, genuinely surprised at the question. "Are you really that daft? Do you think this bond can just be broken because I'll -oh, I don't know- _hang out_ with werewolves? Or maybe because I'll have another pack? _The worst_ that can happen is that they'd be joining us. There is no quitting it for me. I can't do that. You can, though. Did you know that? If you wanted to you can leave the pack. _I am the alpha_ , as humans like to name us, and I will remain so to the _death._ I don't get to choose to stay or go. You do."

That stopped Sirius and all of his thought process. Remus combed his hair with his fingers and took a deep breath.

"Unless you don't want to be a part of this anymore, Sirius, you won't be getting rid of me."

It was the simple truth.

Having found what he was looking for, Sirius went to Remus, so he would hold him. Their overly complicated, yet so very simple relationship never had such a declaration, or such clarity. Sirius knew others would think that the conversation they had would be attributed to their relationship as a pack, and maybe friends, but loving each other and having sex was just another part of that. They were a combination of things, not one thing or the other. They weren't boyfriends, or partners, pack mates, best friends... They didn't have what Lily and James had, the scorching and to hell with it all kind of love. They would never have to choose between the world and each other because they were already walking the same path. Nor would they have to think about what should they do for each other, for everything they did was already that.

Sirius hung onto him, kissing him without ever needing to hide his strength: rough and bruising. Because now he knewand it was a simple truth.

* * *

Peter didn't like Remus leaving. It meant that it had started, that there was no stopping it.

And he was scared.

He wasn't scared of death or destruction, though. He was scared that there would be no more laughter. The meal that Poke, the house elf of the Serpent Cottage prepared for them felt too much like a last meal. The jokes seemed forced and sad. Sirius was clinging next to Remus, like a lost puppy, and Peter was scared that that description was too close to the truth. He was scared that the worry lines on James' face, the boy who never had been worried about anything, would become permanent.

 _It didn't even start yet._

"I'm little confused about why the Dark Lord did not call for Peter, though," Remus was saying. Peter shook his thoughts away to be able to catch the conversation.

"I'm not," he said. "Not really. I mean, he obviously needed your help, Moony. He probably needs to do a little bit of research about me." He grinned cheekily, unable to stop himself. "It just means that I'm _really_ good at what I do, eh? People telling him there is nothing special about me would make him doubt if he really needs me. Haven't we already discussed that the Dark Lord is a collector?" He turned to James while saying that. James had been the one to throw that idea. The marking of his followers was an indicator of possessive behaviour, and those type of people were more likely to be collectors. "Why would he collect something not so special? He might not even mark me."

Sirius sat up on his chair when he heard that, and Peter found himself grinning even wider. His friend could never handle other people thinking less of Peter.

"He can't be that stupid," Sirius said, his eyes dangerously glowing. Peter felt a rush of fondness for his friend.

"Maybe. But think about it. He already has me, through you. He can control me enough with just that. But by not marking me, he'd think that he'd be separating us. The Marauders would be broken, and you all would be truly his. Wouldn't surprise me if he'd never even call to meet me, to be honest."

The rest of the Marauders frowned at that. It was Sirius that broke the silence.

"Maybe. But that's going to change."

James looked at him questioningly, and Peter didn't blame him; Sirius had spoken with such conviction.

"I've got an invitation for you, to the Blackhall," Sirius said and winked. "Once the Dark Lord finds that out, he'll think differently about you."

Peter could just look at him dumbly, not even registering the comment about the Dark Lord. He was invited to the Blackhall. An invitation like that was something his father couldn't even dream of acquiring or _any_ of the Pettigrews. Sirius continued:

"There is one for Remus too, but he has to go... So it'll be just us three remaining Marauders. Brave woman, my grandmother... You even will get to meet Mad Lettie."

" _I_ am invited by Melania Black?" Peter asked, and James started to laugh, hitting Sirius' arm with his elbow.

"Look at him Pads, I think he is terrified of her," he said. "Don't worry Wormy, Granny Black is alright."

"Yeah, but why _me?_ Why now?"

Sirius seemed solemn for a second then he smiled wistfully. "Because you are my friend, to be honest," he said. "I think she wants to... induct you into her society. I'm guessing by the end of the night, you'll have a job in some fancy place."

Peter nodded, worried about the event that was awaiting him and the prospect of a job that he wasn't sure whether he wanted.

"The ministry?" he asked.

Sirius shook his head. "I doubt it, Granny isn't fond of the ministry. She invites eccentric people –I think we can call them. Lots of Europeans, at least one vampire... Oh, Sluggy will be there, for sure."

" _Professor Slughorn?_ " Peter felt even more nervous now, Professor Slughorn never particularly liked him, and meeting with him in a place like Blackhall wasn't something he'd look forward to. Sirius though, seeing his predicament, laughed. Peter sighed a little dejectedly. There was no way that he could decline the invitation. He wasn't sure he wanted to anyway. Yes, he was nervous, but he always had been a little curious to see the life Sirius had when he wasn't a Marauder. Did he prank his family, too? Spiked the punch? Would there even be punch?

He watched as Sirius got close to Remus, the smile leaving his lips as he looked at the scars on their friend's face. Remus wrapped his arm around him almost as if it was a natural effect of being near to Sirius. Peter's eyes met with James, and they both knew what the other thought. They needed to be alone, and say goodbye. James got up first, which relaxed Peter. He always hated to be the one to break an awkward moment.

"Come on, Pete," he said as if interrupting the conversation. He even managed to look slightly apologetic. "I need to go see Lily, and you can help me with the Mark."

Peter nodded and followed James out to the summer evening.

"Who is Mad Lettie?" he asked remembering the name Sirius mentioned. James laughed as an answer.

"That, my friend, is something you'll have to discover for yourself."

* * *

James checked his left arm once again making sure the glamour did hold and the Dark Mark was covered. He had asked Peter to cast the spell, so of course it was perfect... Still, it wouldn't do well if Lily saw it.

 _Not today._

No, today he needed her. Remus was sent on a mission, and even though every bone in his body told him to follow him, James had to remain here. Beyond all the plans he had that dictated his life at the moment, Lily was the thing that made him want to stay. Thinking of her he stepped into the floo.

The soft touch of flames surrounded him and sooth covered his glasses. He was ready when he felt he reached his destination and he easily stepped out of the floo, his wand loosely held in his hand and eyes taking in the surroundings. Lily was waiting for him, but her friends were imprudent. If they decided to hop in unannounced and see him standing there, they wouldn't hesitate for a second before hexing him thinking he was there for some ill deed. He listened as a pair of small feet ran towards the living room and sure enough, the person he wanted to see the most entered the room. James smiled at Lily as she ran and kissed him.

Her lips were hot on his yet it kiss faded before he could pull her more firmly against him, and Lily took a step back looking him over.

"How are you?" she asked tentatively. _Are you a Death Eater yet?_

And there was the wall. Good thing James was used to climbing it, he expected it even. It was a familiar aspect of their relationship; passion and doubt came together dragging questions and love behind them. He went the short distance towards one of her comfortable, second-hand chairs the deep red one, a little withered around the edges but soft and amiable, holding her wrist gently. He pulled her with himself as he sat down, and she didn't put too much resistance, allowing her body to fell on his. He secured her on his lap, looking at her face. He took in Lily's worried frown and furrowed brows, gently pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm well," he said. "How are you?" _Have you joined the Order?_

Lily nodded her head, taking out his glasses. She began cleaning it with the end of her t-shirt.

"There is a spell for that, love," James said with humour.

Lily glared at him. "This takes the same amount of time."

James shrugged and allowed her to put not-so-perfectly-clean glasses back on his nose, pushing it gently in place when she was done. He grinned and spied his hand under her t-shirt. "Oh, so you _did_ shower. It was just the dirt on my glasses."

Lily let out a little laugh and got comfortable on his lap, leaning towards his chest. James knew they wouldn't talk today. Since the school ended talking had became that much harder. They missed each other more; there were no empty classrooms to meet daily and the life expected too much from either of them. So they kissed, which is what lovers do. No amount of talking could bring them together as their touches did. James allowed his nose to rejoice in her scent, and his hands to feel the soft and hard parts on her skin. The bones of her hips, the tissue of her thighs, the chaps on her lips, ghostly touch of her hair on his face, her voice in his ear; each had its own texture and scent, and each had a unique feeling that overwhelmed his being.

They've kissed, for an endless amount of time. Feeling each other's bodies over their clothes, the pressure of their weight only thing that attached them. He didn't know how long after he carried Lily to her bedroom.

The room was even smaller than the living room, but the bed was much more comfortable than her chair. Her sheets were white, with purple flowers on them and smelled of lavender and detergent, although not for much longer. He would leave his scent on them tonight. He pushed her legs apart in front of himself and felt her hesitance. He smirked at her, knowing she was always a little bit shy in the beginning, and to answer his silent challenge they fell open like magical doors.

He leant in, face first, welcoming the heat, the smell and the texture. James was a meticulous man, he could concentrate on one thing for hours if need be. He dutifully listened to the sounds she made, and waited for her ever-changing cues to guide him. Pleasuring Lily was never an easy task, what she liked and desired changed daily, sometimes hourly. He never could get comfortable using a single method. But James liked it that way, he liked the game. He slid a finger in her slowly, easing it in. Her moans were long and her breaths were deep. _Slow it is, darling._ He could do slow.

He added a second finger when he knew she was desperate, adding a little edge to his movements, sucking her in with his mouth. Her voice started to raise, urgent and needy. He stopped right before she could even begin to shout, and she whimpered.

"James, please."

She knew what he was doing. She knew what he was going to do whole night. She wanted it, though. James knew that like he knew his own name. And if he were wrong, she could always take her pleasure herself. He would never stop her. No, this was her choice. Allowing him to decide when she was going to be done.

James smiled at her and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You good?" he asked breathlessly. He was grinning, there was too much joy to be had at this moment. Lily looked beautiful under the dim light. Her skin was flushed and devoid of garments, while James was still wearing his trousers and his shirt was only half opened. She nodded, and James slowly massaged her calves. She sometimes had cramps on her right one during an orgasm, which kind of killed the mood, so he took care to relax the muscles there. She sighed pleasantly and smirked at him rising on her elbows to look at him better.

"I'm going to join the Order."

James could hear the dare in her voice, even if he wasn't seeing the dangerous gleam in her eyes. He shook his head slowly to show his disapproval.

"You should fight," he said, knowing whatever he'd say, she would do what she wanted to. He held her ankle and placed her foot on his shoulder. He kissed the side of her knee. "If that's what you want. I can't convince you to leave for France and hide, can I?"

Lily snorted, so he licked the back of her knee with a smile on his lips. "However would I go to France?" she asked.

"Illegal portkey, of course," James said cheekily.

"And how would I live there? I don't even know French!"

James laughed, continuing to massage on the leg that was now held up by his shoulder. He allowed his hands to get dangerously low, just a breath shy from her core. "I suspect you'd learn. And I hear that, contrary to the popular belief, some French actually do speak English."

Lily laughed, and James suddenly dropped her leg, holding both of them firmly apart, leant and attached his mouth to her. They had talked enough for this round.

It took a little less time for her to start to climb up this time around. He knew he was a little harsher than the first, forcing her to feel his tongue inside of her. He groaned, he moaned and he sucked when his jaw started to ache. This time he entered with two fingers, and the answering noise that escaped her proved it to be a worthy move. He loved when her voice lost its gentle tone; when it became loud and feral. It always surprised him to see how guttural a woman's voice could be. He loved breaking that barrier in her mind, that infliction that she should somehow be embarrassed, or shy and gentle. It took them ages to be able to reach to this point and he cherished it. With pressing his fingers upwards to that sweet spot that would cause her to close her eyes, groan, drop to the bed and arch her back.

She did.

He continued.

Lily held on his hair, fisting her hands and pulling on them. Her firm grip hurt James' scalp and he liked it. She was close, oh so close, and he wanted to see her fall apart so badly, so he stopped. Lily let out a frustrated sound from her throat and then whimpered as he slowly extracted his fingers. He sat on his heels, smoothing his palms over the length of legs. When Lily's breathing slowed a little James put his hand right on her tummy and with a gentle firmness he pressed to help her find her grounding. Help her find it with him. Lily's eyes fluttered open and she looked at him like she was looking right inside his mind as if she couldn't see the material world around her, just him. James liked that he was her whole world at that moment. If only he could bottle up time...

Lily reached up and he leant towards her to make it easier for her to kiss him. He knew she needed him at that moment, or she would remain fragile, and if there was something Lily Evans hated, it was being fragile.

"I won't go to France," she said placing her forehead on his shoulder. James slid his hand that was entrapped between them to touch her inside.

"I know," he whispered and kissed her damp hair. "But if you need to, for any reason, know that you can. I have a cottage there. Part of my inheritance from mother's side... Just tell me and I'll take you there. You could be safe there. No one knows of it."

No one knew of it because James had made sure they did not: a safeguard in case they've lost the Serpent Cottage. He knew Lily would never take up on his offer, not if it meant running. His lioness wouldn't run. But it was an option, better than her dying as a casualty.

"You could join with me James," she whispered.

 _Always trying._

James slowly moved his hand that was inside of her, in and out, slowly but steadily and Lily's breath hitched. He caressed her gently, and with his free hand held the back of her head. Pulling her towards his lips James kissed Lily full on the lips, catching the rhythms of his fingers playing her with his mouth. Lily went slack in his arms and he laid her back on the bed, this time going with her with the whole of his body.

"I couldn't love," he said when he finally stopped kissing her, and slid a finger inside and then pulled it out. "I have a different battle to fight." He kissed her neck and aligned himself with her opening.

"Please," she said.

James didn't know what she was begging for. What did she desire more: for him to be a good man, or for him to be _her_ man? He slid inside of her slowly.

He could give her one of those things.

* * *

 **Thousand Thanks and One to dear Calebski, who is the most wonderful person, and the best that I could have ever asked to help me with this story.**

So here we are, more of Lily and James, slowly clearing that up. Their relationship is one of the things I'm most excited about in this story. Mainly because it's challenging.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did let me know! Your reviews are the most exciting part of sharing this story, after all.

Thank you for reading, and see you next time!

Synoir


	6. Bad Boys

**05**

 **BAD BOYS**

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _Autumn, 1977_

Being the head girl had its disadvantages. One of them was the wary looks that the younger Gryffindors threw at her in fear that she'd stop them from having fun. So except the parties that McGonagall approved for, Lily took it to herself to leave the dorms so the rest could have fun to their heart's content. She would either spend her evenings talking to her best-friend Dorcas or just do an extra patrol. It was a great time for patrolling since all the Gryffindors would be in their rooms, and she could deduct points freely without worrying about being fair from other Houses. She wasn't doing anything wrong, of course. Everything she did was by the books –and she always deducted the same amount of points, even from Slytherins.

At least she enjoyed taking long walks, and having the opportunity to walk around the halls and corridors of her beloved school. She often felt melancholic, even a little nostalgic. This is was her last year, and already her parents were insisting she'd return to the Muggle world, _to the normal world,_ and build a decent life for herself. Decent, though, was not in Lily's future.

"Don't step on that!" she heard a voice shout at her, and she jumped back drawing her wand. She turned around and came face to face with none other than the _other_ disadvantage of being the Head Girl. The much more irritating one. She wondered who should she congratulate for the awful idea of making James Potter the Head Boy. Surely, they could have found someone better than him. Maybe Lupin, even.

What she hated more than that was that her heart started to beat too fast, and she knew that he knew that, because he smiled. She wanted to wipe the smirk off of his face with a lip-binding jinx, and she barely held herself back, her wand shaking a little out of anger.

"What do you want, Potter?" she spat.

Potter, the prat that he is, just shrugged. "I might or might not know that there is a jinx on that stone you were about to step on."

Lily scoffed and looked at him tersely. "We all know who put it there, don't we?"

"Maybe," Potter said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "But we also know that _you_ don't want to step on that. Patrolling are we?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," Lily said while putting her wand back into her pockets. James was eying her critically, making her nervous. She glared at her, but was surprised to find that his eyes weren't mocking, on the contrary, he looked strangely serious. Lily rarely saw this look on him. He looked handsome. It was hateful. Why he had to be handsome on top of everything? Bad people shouldn't be handsome. There should be a natural law about it, it was as such in every tale, wasn't it?

"Why?" James asked walking towards her, in a motion to suggest that they should continue walking. Lily found herself following, and cursed herself for it. It would be too weird to stop now.

"No reason, I just thought-"Lily began but James cut her off.

"Gryffindors have a party tonight, you won the match against Hufflepuff."

Lily just shrugged. "Which means lots of first and second years are up. I don't wanna know what they are _learning_ from the upper years."

James - _Potter-_ laughed. It was sudden, and filled Lily's ears, making her blush. She was used to blushing in inconvenient times when around him, and she usually hid it with her anger. But this time it was useless to try to get angry with him, for whatever reason, so she tried to ignore the feeling. Bad people shouldn't laugh beautifully.

"So you left the dorms not to deduct points. Very good, Evans," Potter said. "Great strategic thinking on your part, all the while keeping your conscience clean."

"Well, what do you do when Slytherin has a party?" Lily asked, genuinely curious. She was sure no Slytherin would ever deduct points from their own house.

"I just go to Slughorn and ask for a broad permission," James said looking at her with a smile on her face. "Sweet talking gets you a long way in Slytherin."

Lily sighed, suddenly feeling jealous. What did a _broad permission_ mean anyway? Were they allowed to drink firewhiskey? McGonagall would never okay that, and nothing could stop Gryffindors from drinking it until they pass out or worse: start to puke.

"I suppose that's true, I'm sure your lower years aren't brave enough to try the real dangerous stuff anyway."

James Potter laughed again, and Lily refused to look at his face. She was surprised to hear his agreement though. "That's true, you know. I got it easy. In any case, as Head Boy, I'm not _responsible_ for the Common Room problems."

"What do you mean you are not? Of course, you are!" Lily stopped and looked at him, and found him eying her… _softly._ She gulped.

"No, Lily. I am not," he stopped with her. "Look, the _key_ to not running yourself spare is a well built organisational chart. Head Boy and Girl are responsible for the _students of Hogwarts_. That's why there isn't one Head from every House. That's for the prefects to regulate. So I never deduct points when in Common Room -because it would be _unfair_ to do so while there are other Houses without a Head Student, wouldn't it? It's simple, really, and you should try it. Maybe you won't have to miss parties anymore."

Lily found herself agreeing with Potter, which disturbed her a great deal. Never agreeing with Potter was one of her principles: always be angry with him so you won't ever enjoy his presence. But he was _right_.

"And you aren't doing it because you are just lazy?" she questioned, doubting his sincerity.

"Huh, well… You know what they say about lazy people, they are the best problem solvers," he grinned at her playfully, and her stomach flip flopped as he slowly leaned towards her as if he was going to share a secret with her. He wasn't really in her personal space but close enough for her to smell his cologne. Her mind went hazy, and she found herself appreciating him for even _wearing_ cologne. Not many Gryffindors did. But James Potter, Lily found, smelled delicious. "And, Lily, I'm so very lazy."

Lily let out a laugh, but stopped herself immediately, which made James' grin to falter. He sighed.

"I'm not really the boogeyman, you know," he said straightening his back. "You can _laugh_ with me. I'd like it if you did, even."

Lily started to move ahead as if to continue their walk to hide that she was actually running away. _From what_ , she thought, _from James Potter or the fact that you actually want to continue talking to him?_

"And you _can_ talk to me, Lily," he said, catching up with her. "I won't -I'm not… Damn." He mussed his hair, and Lily for the first time noticed, that maybe James Potter didn't muss his hair so girls would notice him. Maybe he did it because he simply just did. And the gesture, for the first time, didn't bother Lily. He stopped, and his hand went up as if he'd hold her arm to stop her, but he didn't touch her. Instead, he just sat on one of the benches placed in the broad corridor. "Why do you hate me?"

His voice didn't quiver, nor was he annoyed, pitiful, or shy. He was looking at her, calmly and without judgment. He seemed genuinely curious, and Lily noticed she was curious too. She didn't know why, not anymore.

"I don't know," she said. "I just do."

Potter smiled wanly and nodded his head like he was expecting to hear just that. "I really like you," he said anyway. "I think it's time that you know that. I know you may think you already know, or maybe you think I'm playing around. But I'm not. And please, if you are going to hate me, have a reason. Find one, Evans. Lily. Evans. Find one. It's better if you have a reason. Otherwise, you are just cruel."

"Cruel?" Lily looked at him with disbelief. " _I am_ cruel? James Potter says that _I am cruel._ " She laughed bitterly. "You mock me, follow me around, every girl in Slytherin hates me because of you. You tortured Severus! You still do in fact, and I am cruel!"

"Oh, when did I mock you? Calling you _princess_ is mocking you, then? Or asking you to Hogsmeade? Why? Is it because I like to make it loud and clear that you don't believe me? Is there only one way of being genuine? Should I be solemn, and buy you flowers like every other guy in school does? Would that be _genuine_ enough for you _?_ "

"Oh, you know you did more than that!" Lily tried to cut him off. But he didn't stop.

"And I _never_ followed you around. I don't even watch you-" Potter stopped himself for a second, making Lily wonder what he was going to say. "Believe me," he said instead. "I have ways to know where you are every second of the day, and I _could_ follow you. But I don't. I only follow you when I stumble upon you, to tell you, to _remind_ you, that I am here. I _don't_ stalk you. That's what that creep Snape does. _He_ stalks you, you know. He watches you when you study in the library, behind the bookshelves or when you are talking to your friends and laughing he hides behind a tree. He watches you in class when you are focused on your wand movements. And yes, I torture him, if that's what you want to call it, because he is a creep. But I let you know I _see_ you, and just because you are aware of what I do, I am the bad guy? Is that it?"

Lily had never seen Potter angry with her. Although, she wasn't even sure if he was angry, or just frustrated. He hadn't even stand up, he wasn't shouting, or anything like that. But Lily felt as if she was being taught a lesson, unable to believe that Potter was actually able to get frustrated with her.

Lily found her legs move towards the bench and she sat next to him. He looked at her, surprised.

"I always thought that you did those things to make me feel insecure."

"How so?" James said, and he sounded so confused Lily let out a small laugh.

"You call me _princess_ like I see myself so high and mighty, and I don't, you know," she said, almost whispering.

"But you are," James said. "High and mighty. That is not a bad thing to be. You walk like you own the very ground you step on. And you hold your wand like you were born with it and I know that it takes so much practice on your part, that you hide behind the curtains of your bed and for hours and hours you study the movements -but when you are out in the world you have become an expert on whatever you do. When you say something, you just _do_ and you-" James stopped and took a deep breath, and Lily once again found herself looking at him. He wasn't looking at her anymore. "And I'm not saying this to you so you can fight your insecurities, either. I don't want to be that person you choose to be around because I flatter you. I just want you to know and maybe, the next time I'm talking to you I want you to imagine for a second that I'm not lying."

"How can _you_ think those things about me?" she asked him.

"What do you mean?" James said, looking back at her.

"Your best friend is Sirius Black, and everyone knows that Blacks hate-" Lily started and saw that James was laughing silently. She stopped, her eyes opening in surprise. "Why are you laughing?"

" _No one_ knows _shit_ about the Blacks, Lily," he said gently, shaking his head. "Walburga, Sirius' mother, would hang me upside down for _days_ if she knew I was talking to you, yes. But that's _her,_ and I'm not denying Bellatrix would throw a real fit too, but… They are just a bunch of snobs that want to protect their own way of life. And some of them are short minded, some of them are not. Just like every other family. Don't you have anyone in your family, that you can't help but to love while their point of views bother you?"

Lily found herself remembering Petunia, her sister, and understood what James was saying.

"But that's different," she said immediately. "None of my family wants to kill people they don't like."

"Don't they?" James asked. "Are you sure?"

Lily stayed silent and swallowed. No. No, she wasn't sure. "I think, the situation is different. I think You-Know-Who makes the situation -well, different. _._ "

"Things, aren't as simple as black and white," James said solemnly. "Dark and light. And if you hate me because I'm choosing the Dark Lord, you'd be wrong. I'm choosing myself. I'm choosing a better future. I promise you, Lily, I wouldn't choose it if I thought the future wouldn't be brighter for you as well as me."

"For me?" she asked in disbelief.

"No, not for you alone," James was quick to answer though. "I think this war and whatever it brings along, has nothing to do with you and I. But if you want clarity, let's just say I know what is what. I know that Muggleborns aren't stealing magic, but I also know the dangers they bring into our world. Have you ever heard the name Caleb Mendez? A Muggleborn kid, killed by his local priest. His family was already notified about the magic, which terrified them and they asked for their priest to _exorcise_ him. So the Mendez family killed their own child in fear. And you know the worst of it?"

Lily knew her face was ashen. She shook her head.

"They weren't obliviated. They still know the magical world exists."

"How do you know that?"

"Orion Black. He petitioned for their memories to be erased. He was shut off, called a Muggle-hater. Which was correct; he does hate Muggles. But that doesn't change the fact that he was right."

"You think _He_ will change that?"

"No. Neither will Dumbledore."

"I think you are wrong about Dumbledore, James. He would do everything to save that boy."

James shook his head. "No, not _everything_." He looked at her, then. His eyes piercing hers. "I would, though."

"For a Muggleborn?" Lily asked again. Because, when did James Potter befriended one? When did he show any compassion towards a Muggleborn?

 _Except you,_ a voice told her in the back of her mind and she averted her eyes, looking down instead. Already regretting what she said. She felt the heat of his body, as he got just a little closer to her.

"For magic," James said, his eyes travelling on her face. She didn't have to see it to know it was true. Finding her courage she lifted her eyes to look at him.

"And what about me?" she said.

"I'd burn the world for you," James whispered, then his face got even more serious. "But I won't be your toy."

"I don't want you to burn the world," Lily said. "But I'm afraid you will."

James smiled at her, a little mischievously, and Lily found herself get excited by that, and she knew she shouldn't find someone as dangerous and dark as James Potter this attractive. Most of all she hated how innocent he looked while being that.

"I don't care that you're a Muggleborn, you know. You think I do, but I don't," he said, his eyes unrelentingly fixed on her, the smirk was still on his face but not. "When I look at you I see a powerful witch. The magic in you pours out. You would be beautiful no matter what. But I love the power in you, Evans."

Lily stood still, trying to find a piece of insincerity in James' words. How fast had they gone from _I really like you_ to _love_? Could she believe him? She had heard what others whisper about him. They already called him a Death Eater in the Gryffindor Common Room. There wasn't a friend of hers that didn't hate James Potter.

"I know you support You-Know-Who," she said, and she did know it, whatever he said. Didn't she?

"You know that I don't support Dumbledore," James said as if correcting her. "And I am not as good as you want me to be, and the war will not prove me an innocent with high moral standards either." His voice was so near, only a touch above whispering. Lily found herself admitting that it was soothing, like balm on burnt skin. "But I won't ever be Dark Lord's puppet, either."

He reached and held her hand, and, by some miracle, she didn't yank it back. He had never touched her before. Sure, he had flirted, winked, grinned, called her _Princess_ -and how that word had changed for her today... But he never touched her before. For the first time in her life, she felt her skin move. It made her feel confusingly, unexplainably excited. She hated Potter for too long and watched him until his every move was etched into her brain. Things were not as simple as one's convictions were. When James Potter was around Lily was pulled into his presence, like he was the black hole and she was a stray meteor, and her whole body noticed him. Now, their hands connected, she felt helpless. She wanted to be strong enough to refuse him, to refuse what he is asking of her, to refuse his love. But the truth was that she wanted him _near_. All the times she kissed other boys had nothing on how she felt now when his hands held hers and trapped it inside his palm providing warmth, security and desire. She was scared.

She was terrified.

"I'm not playing a game with you Lily," she heard him whisper, his voice too near. She could feel his breath, and in the silence of the night she even could hear his heart, or so she imagined that she could. She imagined that his heartbeat would match hers.

She couldn't refuse him. She couldn't fully accept him either. So she remained silent. She thought about pushing him away from her and leaving, but her feet would never move to do so. There wasn't a single muscle on her body that wanted to get away from James Potter. His thumb was slowly caressing her hand, and like in slow motion, Lily watched as he pulled her fingertips to his lips and kissed their tip gently, reverently. She could feel the bolt that ran through their bodies, just like when you reach for the magic in you, only _different_. This small gesture was full of promises.

The promise was not one of change. He didn't promise to change his ways, he was not going to change his mind suddenly and join Dumbledore. She _knew_ that. And she really, _really,_ wanted to care about his ideals, his aims, and his goals. They were good reasons to refuse him. Hadn't she turned her back to her once best friend for the same exact reasons? For being too dark, too dangerous? But all she could think now was that his lips offered her the world, and maybe it was good enough for the two of them. James promised her something much more important than the war, politics and ideologies. He promised her love.

Did he not?

Finally finding the courage, Lily looked up to him. She didn't dare to kiss him, or to say anything. But it was enough.

He slowly leant and tucked a string of her hair behind her ear and touched that place between her chin and neck with two fingertips so lightly that it could be the touch of a ghost and the war disappeared. When he leant and Lily felt his breath on her skin for the first time the fact that he meddled with dark arts disappeared. When, in an intake of breath, she smelled him, he was no longer a Slytherin. When his lips touched hers surely but with a tender care, slowly taking her bottom lip between his lips to open her mouth to him... It was her that disappeared. Lily Evans was gone.

It was just _him_ and _her_.

And the kiss...

Their breaths...

Being near.

Near, near, nearer...

* * *

"You did _what?"_

"Shh!" Lily shut her friend's shriek with a whack in the face with a pillow.

"Do not 'shhh' me Lily! You _kissed_ Potter!" Dorcas whisper-shouted without being able to hide her disgust. Lily felt shameful for not telling her best friend about her conflicting feelings about James Potter earlier but she wasn't ashamed of kissing him.

"Yes, yes I did," Lily said with a sigh.

"What were you thinking?" Dorcas asked, her voice calmer now but it was still dripping with disapproval.

Lily shrugged.

"There's something about him Cas, he just... I feel like he needs to be a part of my life, somehow. Like he belongs there..." she said and chanced a look at Dorcas whose eyes were now the size of saucers. "And it was good. The kiss, I mean. It felt... It felt right."

"He is going to be a..." Dorcas suddenly looked around and dropped her volume further, almost impossible to hear now: "a Death Eater. You know that! And I really don't understand you Lils, that's why you stopped being friends with Snape. Then you go and kiss Potter. What-is- _wrong-_ with-you?"

"It's not the same thing!" Lily said, feeling slightly angry.

"The hell it isn't!" Dorcas said, managing to sound loud and whispering at the same time. Lily sighed, and pulled the curtains around the bed and added a _muffliato_ charm for good measure, feeling slightly guilty as she did so. Severus had taught her this spell, or rather she picked it up when he used it many times to make sure their conversations remain private. Dorcas waited with a visible patience for Lily to be done, then continued only a bit louder: "The point is they both are _dark_ , Lily. They are probably already in You-Know-Who's pocket!"

Lily dropped her hands dramatically onto her lap.

"It's different because Sev was my friend, alright?" she said, surprised that she still sounded angry after all this time. "He was supposed to be my friend. We were supposed to be... We were supposed to be fighting at the same corner. Instead, he chose a madman that wants people like me dead, and why? Because he is _curious. B_ ecause he thinks he _deserves more_. He _betrayed me_ for power, Cas. So, no, it's not the same."

Dorcas remained silent for only a second.

"Potter supports the same madman, Lily. He won't respect you. He never will."

"You are wrong though, he does. He does respect me enough to separate me from all this: the war, and choosing sides. What is between us is not about the war. And I believe..." she looked at Dorcas with seriousness. "I believe James plays a bigger game than following a madman for an easy access to power. He isn't in love with their ideals..."

"Oh, yeah, he bloody well is!" Dorcas shouted. "Listen to yourself! James! You call him _James_ now? And, Godric's sake Lily, you are... you are defending a _Death Eater._ "

"I'm not." Lily said. "I'm not defending him. I know... I know we will fight in different sides. I know this cannot go on. But I think I'm in love with him anyway."

Dorcas looked at her shocked; like Lily just declared the sky and earth switched sides, or she said that the Earth was flat. Then she snorted.

"You mean you just want to shag him," she said as if she just had her 'a-ha!' moment.

"No!" Lily said, her face turning red.

"Yes, oh yes!" Dorcas said. "You want to shag the evil git and you call it love because you need to have an excuse, instead of just shagging and dumping him," she sighed, interrupting her own speech. "Lils, Lily-bean. You have to be very careful with James Potter."

"I am. I will be. But I'm in his... Ah, hell, I don't know how to explain but you know, when he looks at me the world stops. Or, rather _I_ stop while the world turns so very swiftly. And he doesn't lie to me, Cassie. He may be rude, and obnoxious, and annoying, and very, _very,_ arrogant and evil; but he doesn't lie to me. And the kiss... I never felt something quite like that my whole life."

"You are going to continue seeing him," Dorcas said and it wasn't a question.

"Well, he is the head-boy, so I have to..."

Lily felt the air move and her face met with something soft yet forceful. She dumbly looked at the pillow that Dorcas just hit her with.

"What the hell?"

"I'm not talking about that! Will you continue _seeing_ him, Lily? Will you... Oh Merlin's bloated testicles, I can't believe I'm asking this! Will you _date_ him? Continue snogging him? Shag him?"

Yes, was the answer that immediately popped into Lily's head.

"I don't know," she said, not exactly thinking she was lying. Dorcas didn't seem to believe her but she didn't say anything.

Dorcas would support her through hell and back and Lily knew that. But she also knew the other girl didn't really understand what she was going through. Lily supposed times like these did that to people. It was always easy to forget your enemy was human too. Perhaps it was what made them resilient enough to keep fighting, to keep resisting. Lily wondered if there were no Voldemort would Dorcas still think James was evil? Because she knew he wouldn't be much different. He'd still be the obnoxious, arrogant toe-rag that liked to play with dark magic.

Lily hated that. Lily hated that James had no morals that helped him filter bad from good. Right from wrong... What drove him was _want_. He wanted something, so he didn't stop until he got it. Lily wasn't sure if that made him exactly evil. Severus wasn't. He was not evil; sure, he was dark and selfish. Arrogant too, though he'd deny it. Lily knew Severus wanted to belong with people, with people he deemed smart and capable. It was what made her stop seeing him. Lily once hoped her friendship would be enough. But it wasn't. He had chosen and then called her a _mudblood_. It was a slip, and that just made it worse. Lily was half-sure she'd forgive him if it were a planned move. If he'd told her that it was so the other Death Eater Wanna-Be's would believe him. But it was a _slip._ He really, really thought that about people like her. That, she couldn't forgive. James never did that. Why did James wanted to join with the _Dark Side_ , Lily had no idea though. She had no answers. Were they the same, would James call her a mudblood without even thinking? She supposed if James called her a mudblood, it would be because he wanted to make a point. It would not be a slip. Or so she hoped.

She didn't know.

She wanted to, though.

She wanted to find out. _Give him a chance_ , she thought, a _nd you'll see._ Her heart wanted James, and maybe Dorcas was right and it was her body that really wanted him. It didn't matter to Lily. She liked the feeling that took over her whenever James was near. She even liked it when he annoyed or angered her. She both wanted to hit him in the head and kiss him senseless. She never had a choice in it. She always liked him, even before she knew she did. Her mother would scoff and say that every young woman went through a phase that they were attracted to bad boys. Not that her mother would know what Lily meant when she said 'bad'. Her mother lived in a world where _bad_ meant leather jackets, smoking pot and staying out late. She would wrinkle her nose and say _'delinquents'_ when she saw young people laughing in the streets that drank beer in a park after dark. _'Stay away from people like that girls,_ ' she'd say to Petunia and Lily, _'Nothing good comes from people like that.'_ How easy it would be if James were the neighbourhood bad boy instead of a Death Eater recruit. How easy it would be to say _'I want him anyway, Mum.'_

But he wasn't. Not that her mother would ever find out. No. She would never know about the war if Lily could help it.

Nothing about Voldemort, Death Eaters or James Potter.

* * *

"Have you hit your head or something, Prongs?"

Severus sneered before entering the dorm that he shared with the idiotic foursome. He had seen Potter as he came back from the patrol, and went to the dorm. He would prefer to wait a little longer to make sure they, _the Marauders,_ would gone to bed but Slughorn had come to check upon his pupils and sent Severus up.

"No, thank you very much, I'm perfectly fine," Potter was saying. "Better than fine."

Potter's eyes found Severus and the smirk that suddenly appeared on his adversary's face was enough to make him want to pull his wand out. He didn't of course, he had some self control. He decided to ignore the quatro and swiftly moved towards his bed.

"I'm not so sure," Black was saying. "I'm sure someone gave you a draught that meddled with your mind."

Severus sighed internally. If someone actually gave him a draught, they'd think it was him.

"No, I'm perfectly fine, and I'm _insulted,_ Padfoot, do you think anyone can mix something in _my drink?_ "

 _I'm sure I could,_ Severus thought. _And you wouldn't even know what hit you, if I did._

"But Prongs," he heard Pettigrew's mousy voice. "Evans would _never_ -"

Severus heard someone hit Pettigrew, shutting him up, but he didn't look to see who it was. Instead he stood still, frozen in place. What about Evans? Had Potter done something to Lily? Severus would kill him, he would. Life Debt be damned. He slowly turned and looked at the Marauders, trying to figure out who had shut Pettigrew from talking.

"What about Lily?" Severus asked.

"Mind your own business," Lupin said, and Severus sneered at him. If he hadn't befriended Black, the werewolf would have no chance of surviving his Hogwarts years. Who would allow a werewolf to study with _kids_. Severus had almost died in his hands, and what did the professors do? _Nothing._

"You mind your own business, _mutt,"_ he said, hiding his fear with a mask of contempt. "Humans are talking."

Severus knew he was being reckless by taunting him while four to one. He expected them to rose to their feet and attack him. What he didn't expect was all of them looking at Lupin as if to ask for permission. Severus must have missed something, since _when_ Lupin was the head of their annoying little group? He was further surprised when Lupin just moved his head left to right, a micro gesture that would be easily missed, and the other three remained seated. Saying that Severus was disappointed would be an understatement. But he could use that to his advantage, he didn't actually want a fight, after all, he wanted to know what they were talking about.

"What about Lily?" he said once again, making sure he sounded self assured.

"You've been told to mind your own business, weren't you?" Potter looked at him, and he was once again grinning at him. Severus felt himself get sick. There was something unexplainable in that grin.

"Just tell him, James," Black said, and he too was grinning. "Let him know _all_ about it I say."

"I thought you didn't believe me!" Potter turned to his friend, ignoring Severus standing there. Severus could feel his bones vibrating with anger. Black, too, was ignoring him. He just shrugged like it didn't even matter.

"If you did something to her, I swear I'll make you pay Potter," Severus said taking his wand out.

"He did _something_ to her, alright," Pettigrew said and Severus aimed his wand at his laughing face. He didn't even notice that Lupin had jumped up from his seat until he was on him, his fist closed around the collar of Severus' robes. The werewolf snarled at him.

"Don't," was all Lupin said, his eyes were dangerously narrowed and his mouth showing off his teeth. Severus found himself looking at it, remembering another night that he had to run away from them; only they were sharper then, and the threat had been much more real.

"Remus!" he heard others say and Lupin let him go. Potter came in between them and Pettigrew had put his hand on Lupin's shoulder. Severus didn't care. He hated being afraid of the werewolf, and he knew that the group could make the rest of his last year at Hogwarts hell, but he didn't care.

"Did you?" he asked, to Potter this time. "Did you do something to her, because if you did-"

"What?" Potter turned to him sharply. "What will you do to me? She doesn't want you in her life, does she? You made sure of that! What right do you have to question anything about her?"

Severus moved towards the door, to get out of the dorm so he could run to Lily and make sure she was fine. He was stopped by a pair of hands that pushed him away from the door. Once again, he was face to face with Potter.

"Get out of my way!" he snarled, angry.

"Where do you think you are going? To Lily?" Potter asked. "You will stay away from her, Snape!"

"What did you do to her?" he shouted, hoping the desperation in his voice would not be caught by him.

"Nothing! Salazar! I'm not _you,_ you fucking creep!"

For the first time in his life, Severus knew how much hitting someone's nose with your fist hurt. His hand was shaking with pain that he felt to his elbow. He would hope that the fist would slow Potter down, but he should have known better. The guy was used to pain, wasn't he? But so was Severus, although James Potter was significantly stronger than Severus' father, and so when Potter's fist came in contact with his jaw Severus found himself staggering backwards. Potter tried to take advantage of that but Severus was faster, and he sent a jinx on his way, missing only barely due to his unbalanced stance.

Unfortunately, that gave Potter enough time to pull his own wand out and send a Jelly-Legs Jinx towards Severus which made him collapse onto the ground. Normally, after that laughs would come from the other Marauders, but there was only silence. Severus saw James Potter taking his stance and _wait_ for Severus to get up. He had never done that, treating their confrontations like a duel. Neither did the rest of his band. They didn't pity the fallen, they had no honour. So why now was he acting as if he did?

Severus rose to his feet, taking his own stance.

"Get out of my way Potter," he said, knowing that the other guy would refuse.

"I kissed her," Potter said instead of responding, his face expressionless like a rock. Severus' ears began to ring. "And she kissed me."

 _Impedimenta!_ Severus cast mentally. _Flipendo._ Potter deflected them both, blocking one and stepping away from the other. Severus continued to cast.

He sent spell after spell, and Potter was doing the same although he was mostly fighting defensive. Severus didn't know what came over him, but Potter was unable to take a break to send anything really harmful towards Severus. Severus knew that he had never fought this good. But the image of Lily kissing Potter… Image of _his_ Lily to choose his enemy over him filled his mind, and focused all his anger towards a single goal: beating his opponent. Deep inside, Severus knew he had found how to achieve anything in the world, to have everything he had ever wanted.

All but one thing.

Lily.

He felt his mouth suddenly burn, as Potter's Pepper-Breath Hex hit him on the face.

" _Flipendo_!" Severus heard him cast, and unable to see due to the tears in his eyes because of the Hex, he chanced to dive on to his left. Which was stupid, even though he felt the Knock-Back Jinx pass him by, he still had dove towards Potter's stronger side -and sure enough he felt the second, and silently cast _flipendo_ Potter had sent hit him square in the chest.

Severus fell down and felt his wand fly from his grip as what should be the result of the Disarming Spell Potter had used to finish the fight.

He had lost.

Worse; Potter had fought fairly. Severus wanted to kill him.

"Stay away from Lily," Potter said. "You aren't good for her."

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **First and foremost many thanks to Calebski, as usual, for Alpha reading this story.**

 **Secondly, sorry for the late update. My MacBook charger broke, and the new one only arrived yesterday.**

 **This chapter has a special place in my heart because it was one of the first I drafted as I planned for the story.**

 **Thank you for reading, and as always, your reviews are the best part of my days.**

 **Love,**

 **Synoir**


	7. Simple Decisions

**06**

 **Simple Decisions**

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was a house in the middle of nowhere. Technically, it was somewhere, but Lily had no idea where that was. It was a tiny house in a clearing surrounded by tall trees.

Lily and Dorcas had walked from the small apparition ground that was circled with what reminded Lily of Fairy Circles, following their Headmaster Dumbledore. After Dumbledore shared the location of the small cottage it appeared in front of them, making both Lily and Dorcas gasp. The house reminded Lily of the Gingerbread House in Hansel and Gretel, only instead of the candy, it was overflowing with flowers, herbs and plants. It looked colourful and cheery; like a home for a couple with little grandchildren running around in the garden come summer. It was such a contradiction to imagine this place as where the resistance against a terrorist group came together to discuss battle plans. It was even weird to think that it was protected with magical wards and the _Fidelius_.

At least Death Eaters would never get to destroy this little house. Hopefully.

They've entered the small cottage, with encouraging smiles from Dumbledore and they were welcomed by a crowd of people, some standing and some seated, with serious faces talking amongst themselves. Lily saw few familiar faces, but even McGonagall who had known them for seven years waited for them to be introduced formally before welcoming them.

After their introduction the crowd filled the abnormally large kitchen, that seemed even bigger than the cottage itself. Lily knew the room must have been magically enlarged, it still created a sense of wonder in her. But then again, magic was always useful for that sort of thing.

"Their numbers are quickly increasing," the tough looking man named Alastor Moody was saying.

"Anyone we know?" McGonagall asked, and Lily could see the worry on her face. Lily tried to imagine how it would feel to actually fight against people that were once your pupils. It couldn't be possibly easy. Would it be even justifiable?

"The rumour has it the Black lad had joined them," one of the Prewetts said.

"Sirius Black?" she asked unable to hold her tongue.

"Yes, you are the same year as him, right lass?" Moody asked her and she nodded dumbly. Lily could feel Dumbledore's eyes on her.

"Yes, yes I was," she mumbled, eying McGonagall who had lost all the colour of her face.

"Where did you hear this Prewett?" Moody turned asked the Prewett who spoke earlier.

Prewett shrugged. "Here and there. People talk, although I can't know for sure. It's just gossip."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Benjy Fenwick, a Ravenclaw a year older than Lily, spoke. "He is a Black, and the whole school was sure that he and his evil band of friends would join You-Know-Who."

"What friends?" Moody demanded.

"Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew," counted Dumbledore breaking his silence. "Quite the mischief makers, but I have had noticed that the spells they were using took a darker turn as they grew up."

"They were the most talented group," Professor McGonagall said, the distress she was feeling carried out with her voice. "All of them were great at Transfiguration. Would gladly offer them Apprenticeships, but they all declined."

It was the first time Lily heard of this. She felt the little pang of jealousy, McGonagall didn't offer _her_ an apprenticeship and she had gotten an Outstanding for her NEWTs just like James.

"Very talented at Charms too, especially young Mister Black, and I know that Remus Lupin was exceptionally good at Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Must come with the territory," Moody said under his breath, although it was not as silent as he'd seem to hope. He then turned towards Dorcas and Lily, fixing his eyes on them. "Do you know anything about them?"

"James… Potter was Head Boy," she said, not knowing what to say. "I… Uhm. I was Head Girl. And we worked together. But he was never… James Potter has never -you know, been… _cruel_ to me. He is not…" She was babbling, not knowing what to say. Their relationship was a secret, and she knew her face was bright red with not knowing what to say. Dorcas huffed and Lily took a deep breath knowing her best friend would help her out.

"James Potter fancied Lily. Everyone knows that. So, no, he _seems_ to have no particular dislike for Muggleborns," Cas explained with her self-assured voice. "But he _did_ use morally ambiguous spells, and the rumour has it he really enjoyed _experimenting_ with Dark Magic." She shrugged like she didn't care about what would happen to James Potter, and Lily suspected that it wasn't an act. "But I don't really know. Didn't have Slytherin friends, to be honest."

"What about Black, and the rest? Lupin and Pettigrew?" Moody questioned.

"Black is complicated," Lily answered this time. Everyone turned to her and she felt herself flush. She continued anyway, this time her voice didn't waver. "I don't know _how_ dark he is, but I know that he is definitely not the best person either. But I'd think if he joined the… _You-Know-Who_ , he would have some sort of a reason other than just killing Muggles and Muggleborns."

"How do you know that?" asked the other Prewett.

Lily shrugged, feeling much more relaxed now that she stopped babbling. " _The Marauders_ -that's what they call themselves- are not _exactly_ against Muggleborns. I know because I am one, and the way they treated me was different than the other Slytherins most of the time. They've never called me _Mudblood_ , and Lupin never deducted more points from Muggleborns. I know that James Potter gave detention to Mulciber for attacking Mary Macdonald, a Hufflepuff Muggleborn."

"Maybe he was just following the school rules, it doesn't mean he is not a prejudiced prick," said the first Prewett that talked.

"Maybe," Dorcas cut in. "In any case, if they joined with You-Know-Who, they _will_ be dangerous. Even their _pranks_ were extremely elaborate and creative. I don't want to think what would they do in an adult playground."

Lily felt a shiver run down her spine upon hearing her friend's words. Dorcas was right, of course, as she often was. James _was_ dangerous. She just wasn't sure what exactly he'd do with his talent. She was even less sure about the rest of his friends.

"And they won't be the only Slytherins getting marked," Dorcas added and Lily turned to her.

"Severus," she said, almost in a whisper and Dorcas looked at her while she nodded.

Minerva McGonagall sighed. "That is correct, Severus Snape was friends with both Mulciber and Avery, and we had heard that they were probably marked earlier this year."

"And what do we know about him?"

"His father is a Muggle," Lily spoke. "He was our neighbour, before Hogwarts. He was the first person that told me I was a witch." She looked at Moody. "He was my friend and… He apologised many times, but… He _likes_ Dark Magic."

Dorcas held her hand, and Lily smiled at her. It wasn't easy talking about both James and Severus as potential enemies. Sharing what she knew about them, she felt like a traitor. She took a deep, shaky breath. "I think all of them could be Death Eaters. I think all of them could have different reasons for joining. I think… I think that they are complicated, and we don't know much about their motives, and we should be… mindful and careful when dealing with them."

Her voice shook, finally. She could feel the tears were threatening to fall, but she held herself. Bracing her whole being against the possibility. She loved them. She still loved Severus, and she loved James so much.

"Alright, Fenwick, gather whatever you can on Black. Prewett you will follow Potter-"

"Which Prewett?" asked one of them and Moody glared at him.

"You," he answered as if spitting a rude word and both Prewetts laughed. "And the _other_ Prewett will follow Lupin-" Moody continued but was cut off.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dumbledore spoke. "Mr Lupin is a werewolf."

There was a silence following that statement.

"When was he bitten?" Moody asked.

"When he was four years old," Dumbledore said and both Lily and Dorcas gasped. It all made sense, of course. All of his absence from classes over the years and his scars… How could she not notice it before? Lupin had been a prefect, under her watch too. Did James know? He must have.

"A werewolf with students? And a _dark_ one at that, have you lost your mind, Albus?" Moody said. Lily was doubting this man was not much fond of being polite, and if he treated Dumbledore this way, Lily never wanted to be on his bad side.

"I made sure he'd receive the education he was supposed to have, as is my duty," Dumbledore said, and he continued as if it wasn't important. "That would make it harder to follow him. I think it would be wiser if Mr Prewett would follow Mr Pettigrew. And Miss McKinnon, if you'd be so kind to find information about Mr Snape?"

Marlene McKinnon, who Lily knew from the Gryffindor common room few years ahead of her, nodded sharply. She didn't look like the best person to tail someone, but Lily knew she at least was capable of defending herself ferociously.

"And what are we going to do about Lupin?" Moody growled. Lily didn't like how he seemed to be suddenly more worried about the former Slytherin prefect now that he knew he was a werewolf. Although, she supposed that it made sense in a way. He was more dangerous than they initially thought.

"I will deal with him myself for now," Dumbledore said, and Lily found herself relaxing. Dumbledore would know what to do.

* * *

When James finally arrived at Lily's flat, he found her nervously pacing the room. He walked towards her and she turned to him, her eyes sparkling dangerously.

"Something is wrong," he said.

"Have you gone and got yourself a new _tattoo,_ Potter?"

James stopped. _No more waiting_ , he thought bitterly. He licked his lips nervously, as they had instantly dried upon hearing her words. He scratched his chin, feeling the beginnings of a stubble. His mind reminded him to shave it off, in an effort the avoid thinking about the awkward situation he was in. He took a deep breath.

"And it's just that."

There was silence first and then Lily's dumbfounded voice saying: "What?"

James looked at her and pushed the sleeve of his robe, and proceeded to take out his wand. He touched his seemingly unblemished arm with the wand's tip and lifted the concealment that was placed on it. The Dark Mark appeared on his arm as if it was coming out of his veins, like blood; only black and even thicker.

Lily gasped, her eyes round and big. She looked at him, her mouth fell open and just as she seemed to be saying something she closed her mouth and ran. James listened to the sound of her emptying the contents of her stomach. He was overwhelmed with the need of going to her, to hold her hair and to take her into his arms. But he didn't move. How could he hope to be a comfort to her, when he was the reason she was in this state in the first place?

He still moved closer to the bathroom door, hoping to be there when she got out. He leaned onto the cold wall, waiting.

He listened the sound of the running water hitting the sink, he listened to Lily's movements, he listened to her spit into the sink, he listened as her feet moved around the small bathroom. The time passed, and he didn't know for how long they stood there, a half closed door in between them.

Finally, Lily opened the door and walked passed him towards the small kitchen of her flat, without a glance to his side. James followed on her heels.

"Lily," he said as softly as he could.

"Don't you _dare_ Lily me," she spat. She opened the thing he knew to be a _fridge_ and the light coming from it shone on her face. She took a bottle of vodka from inside, some Muggle brand, opened it and finding a dirty glass by the sink, she filled it.

"You knew this was going to happen," James tried to reason, but he knew that it was a pathetic thing to say. Sure enough, Lily snorted with a roll of her eyes and instead of answering him immediately, she gulped down the contents of the glass.

"Fuck!" she said as she hit the glass onto the counter. James would guess the cursing was half because of the strong alcohol burning into her system, half because of him.

"Lily," he sighed her name and got closer to her. Her eyes found his, finally, and they weren't angry. He hated the shine that they've suddenly taken.

"Of course I knew it," she said. "Show it to me again."

James sighed and his hand went to his hair. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea," he said.

"Show it to me again," Lily said, punctuating each word. James nodded slowly, and once again, showed her the Dark Mark that was etched onto his skin.

"Did it hurt?" Lily asked.

James found himself smiling, looking down at her head. She was looking at it, without flinching. It was the look of a person that braced themselves with a clinical curiosity.

"I don't know, I was… Not coherent at the time," he said. He shivered remembering the memory. "It was worse than pain."

Lily immediately made eye contact with him upon hearing it. "Don't expect me to pity you, Potter!"

James shook his head slowly. "I don't. Don't expect it, don't want it." He slowly reached her arm, touching it lightly. "I had to do it."

" _Had_ to, huh? Why?"

"Because it's necessary. I need to _see_ it, Lily, you can't control a broom if you are not on it."

Lily sighed and nodded, slowly allowing herself to be inside his personal space. Her shoulders relaxed and her breathing got more normal. James ran his hands up and down her arms.

"Promise me you won't… Promise me," she said.

"Promise you what?" James held Lily's chin and lifted it slightly. "I will not ever hurt you, I will not use you. I will not betray you, Lily. I'm… I'm pretty sure I'm incapable of doing so."

He wasn't expecting tears. He wouldn't even imagine that Lily would allow tears to fall when alone with him after she realised he was a Death Eater. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his nose under her ear. He held her even tighter when her shoulders started to shake.

"Everything will be fine," he said. "When this war ends, and if we survive it, I promise you, Lily, it will be okay."

Lily nodded her head, finally bringing her arms to wrap around his waist.

"Stay with me," James whispered into her ear, and finally exhaled a relaxed breath when he heard her whispered, "I will."

* * *

"Have you ever used the spell?"

Rabastan's question stopped James in his tracks. The man was looking at him, his eyes seemingly emotionless. James shook his head.

"No, never needed to."

They were standing on a street paved with cobblestones, and the street lights gently alighted their surroundings. The night was crisp and warm. James loved summer nights. It was a beautiful day.

"Can you do it?" Rabastan asked. Slowly continuing to their walk.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," James eyed him critically. "What do you think I am?"

"I failed my first time," Rabastan said then, kicking a rock gently with the tip of his foot. "It takes time to even start to understand what the spell asks you. It's a commitment, of sorts. Bella says _you need to mean it_ when she talks about the Unforgivables but it's not that simple."

James realised Rabastan's questioning wasn't to undermine him. That surprised him since Rabastan was one of the most arrogant people James knew. And he knew a lot of arrogant people.

"What the spell asks of me?" he asked, needing it to be clarified.

"There are many ways of killing someone. Incendio is very efficient, I find," said Rabastan lazily. "If you fail the curse, I mean."

"You are not going to explain it?" James said and Rabastan shook his head.

"I couldn't. It's not explainable," he said. "But try it. It gets easier in time anyway."

James nodded, taking note of what Rabastan said.

"Maybe it's good that you are here, then," he said to Rabastan as they stopped in front of a house with a white door. "You could hold him, and I'll try it a few times?"

"You could always try it on animals?" Rabastan said.

James wrinkled his nose with distaste. "I don't like hurting animals."

Rabastan chuckled lowly in his throat, and entered the garden, with James following his footsteps. "Yet you are okay with killing people?"

"People get in your way," James said. "Animals mind their own business."

"Aye, that's true," Rabastan said as he tried to unlock the door. He failed.

"You think _Alohomora_ would serve you? That's a second-year spell."

"I rather hoped he'd be an idiot," Rabastan sighed.

"Let me give it a try," James said taking out his wand. He aimed at the lock and waved his wand with familiar movements. "Just a simple ward, nothing dire," he clarified to Rabastan who grumbled.

"Do we need to crash it then?" Rabastan asked.

James nodded. "Better if we both jolt it down, really, wards like that aren't good against forceful spells."

"Bombarda?"

James nodded. "Three - two - ONE!"

Both shouted "Bombarda!" under their breaths and James felt the jolt coming from the ward as it fell apart. Rabastan kicked the door open and entered the house.

" _Stupefy!_ " James exclaimed towards the first moving thing he saw. It was a woman, and not their target.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Rabastan yelled at the same woman. James flinched as the woman fell with a loud thud.

"Fuck!" James cursed, but before he could talk any further he saw a flash of pink coming towards him. He ducked and turned to the source of the spell. When he found his ground Rabastan was already duelling with the man, so James' simply sent a binding spell towards him. The man fell like the woman, only much more loudly, and continued to struggle.

" _Silencio,_ " James hissed towards the man to spare himself the disgruntled noises the man was sure to make.

" _Stupefy?_ " Rabastan said, turning to James. "What are you? A baby?"

"Well, I am wise enough to leave her alive so we can question her!" James said angrily. "We don't know who she is! Could always kill her later, look at her, she didn't even have a wand!"

Rabastan looked at the woman for a couple of seconds, then shrugged. "I didn't notice she was wandless."

"Right, figures…" James mumbled, his anger leaving as the adrenaline of the fight ebbed. He sent a _Homenum Revelio_ , and when nothing appeared he allowed himself to relax further. Rabastan was kneeling beside the man that James bound.

"Is it him then?" he asked, taking his mask off his face.

James did the same with his own mask. "Yeah, it's him."

Rabastan took a fist of the man's hair and dragged him across the entrance, towards the kitchen. The man was trying to struggle against his binds, but James knew that they were too tight to allow any serious movement. He grinned remembering from where he actually learned the spell: _Advanced Spells for Libertines_ ; a book full of erotic spells that he found when he was sixteen. Of course, this was one of the most dangerous binding spells to use during sex, still proved to be useful for duels so James added it to his repertoire. James watched Rabastan as he lifted the man he dragged across his own home, and put him onto the chair with a sticking charm. Then turned to James with a grin.

"Is this the _Anna's Bind_?" Rabastan asked James. James grinned back at him.

"Yep," he said. "I also know the _Anna's Tremor._ Want to see?" he added meaning the charm that activated the nerve points that the binds touched.

Rabastan's face was alight with a childish smile. "Yes, never could manage to use it myself."

James laughed, raising his wand towards the man on the chair and thought of the incantation. The man couldn't even groan, but his expression told Rabastan and him all they needed to know. He looked like he would jump from his seat if he could.

"Oh, pity the person you practised it with!" Rabastan said laughing.

James shook his head, thinking about Lily. He had never used it on her, nor with any of his lovers before her. It wasn't something he was into. James avoided mentioning that he never actually practised the spell until now.

"Why pity?" he said instead. "It could be quite enjoyable when done right."

Rabastan roared with laughter. "Look at this guy, it seems like you botched it up!" He then raised his wand and threw the counter spell for _Silencio_.

"Please…" the man mumbled.

"Try again," said Rabastan. James shrugged and sent another tremor to the poor sod.

This time man groaned pitifully with tears in his eyes.

"I really must be doing a horrible job," James said critically. "It shouldn't be _that_ awful."

"Maybe he isn't used to pleasure, the woman in the hall looked quite mundane."

James hummed his agreement.

"Please," the man mumbled again, and James jumped on his heels.

"Shoot!" he exclaimed. "I completely forgot I needed to stop the tremors before doing it again!"

This time Rabastan's laughter echoed around the kitchen. "I'm requesting you whenever I am sent for this kind of gigs from now on Potter. I don't laugh this much even with Barty."

James winked at Rabastan and cancelled the tremors.

"Are they gone?" he asked him and the guy nodded looking defeated. "Sorry for that, really. I usually am not that bad when it comes to procedures. I do lack practice on this particular spell though."

James turned to Rabastan who was still giggling in the background and watched as the guy opened the wine cabinet.

"Hmm. Nothing good," Rabastan was humming. "Ah, this will do! Bacchus, 72. Want a glass, Jamie?"

"Sure why not," James said as he sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, facing their _host_. "Mr Pollock, I've heard you've got a wonderful career. Assistant to the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation"

"Yeah," the man said, watching Rabastan opening what was probably a wine reserved for a special occasion.

"We have heard you collect the illegal portkey data," James said as he took the wine Rabastan offered. The larger man proceeded to sit on another chai and put his legs on the fourth one.

"That's… That's right," the man said. "But it's not here. It's in the office, and if you let me go, I promise-"

"Right, well, good," James said, relaxing on his seat. "So you have no qualms about sharing it with us?"

"No, no. I- I'll share it with you, just, please-"

"Don't kill you?" Rabastan interrupted as he sipped his wine.

"Please don't worry about that," James said. "But we kind of need the information _right now._ "

The man looked confused.

"R-right now?"

"And permanently," James added looking at him pointedly.

"W-hat? Permanently? How-"

James shook his head. "Shall I tell him, or will you Rab?"

"Please, James. You are doing marvellously," Rabastan said.

"We really need one of our own to take your place," James said to Pollock. "You'll need to quit the job."

"Qu-quit? Yes, of course. I'll quit. I'll leave, too," Pollock stammered. "I'll leave the country, I have a cousin in America, I'll… I'll go there. I promise. You won't hear from me."

James frowned looking at the man and downed his glass of wine. As he put it down Rabastan filled it once again. He didn't like this. He could pretend, he could even take the pretence to the next level. It was easy to kill people, or so he imagined that it'd be so. They were most often than not annoying, weak and stupid.

Still, he didn't want to do it, but he was ordered to do so. It was simple really. Who would choose a stranger over themselves? He had to play the part, he had to become the evil, the stronger evil even.

And Rabastan was right. He'd have to practice.

James got up, drinking the second glass of wine, as well.

 _You are not a good man, James,_ he reminded himself. _You are a Death Eater._

He raised his wand towards the man. Could he do it? Rabastan had said it wasn't easy, it wasn't as simple as convincing yourself.

He remembered his lessons with Orion Black. What did the man say to him and Sirius?

" _If you need to convince yourself, you'll fail. You have to know you'll achieve it. Belief is never enough."_

A blink of an eye and Oliver Pollock would be no more.

" _Avada Kedavra._ "

He felt it first, just a little. There was something there, a tingle inside his bones, his fingertips felt it. His mind felt it. He could feel that his cheeks flushed crimson; he could feel the heat on his neck. James inhaled deeply and shifted a little.

There was something there. Something promised, something strong.

Something magical.

He closed his eyes. He wanted it. He really wanted to feel what was beyond the act of murder, he wanted to see what was promised to him. He exhaled slowly until there was no breath left in his lungs and started to inhale once again. His gaze found the man looking at him with eyes full of fear and surprise. Was he happy that the spell didn't work? _Undoubtedly,_ James thought, since people were weird about life. It didn't matter if they were going to die today, as long as they lived a moment longer. It made it so much harder to kill a person, he noticed.

James felt like there were two decisions hanging above his head, the decision to kill the man with something simple, a slicing hex maybe. Remus had developed an amazing one, James could just slice his neck open so clean it'd be almost surgical, and the Dark Lord would be pleased. The second decision was just killing him as death was meant to be.

Not bloody, because _death_ had nothing to do with what happened to your physical body, did it? Death was not a state of being that could be affected by the physical attributes that were suffering from a certain condition. No.

Death was a state of unbeing. It was a peak, a victory, a win. _Avada Kedavra_ meant you get to live that.

James realised that's why it was _unforgivable_. Not because it killed but because it did it as Death should.

He aimed his wand at the man once again. He didn't see him trembling or register how afraid he was. What was the point?

" _Avada Kedavra._ "

The green light spurted out of his wand, _mahogany and phoenix feathers: perfect for transfiguration_ , and struck its target.

It felt good.

It felt _so good_.

James exhaled, feeling his legs shake like he just had the best orgasm of his life and his heart… - _Merlin_ , _his heart_ \- was racing like a centaur herd. He felt the world spinning around him, but he wasn't moving. There were so many beautiful colours, weren't there? And the crickets… The chirping crickets, echoing in the night, forever. It was love, wasn't it? It was love that made them destroy themselves.

He closed his eyes, and under his eyelids, he saw her. Auburn hair under sunlight, and when laid on the grass, her eyes gleamed. His ears were only hearing her voice, whispering at him, shouting at him, filling him.

James jolted awake as he felt Rabastan's hand on his shoulders.

"You really did it!" the large man said to him. And he was really handsome, James noticed. There was almost a golden shine to his dark skin, but maybe that was the oil lamps around the house reflecting. "I know, the first time is always kind of dumbfounding. You'll get used to it. Try not to snog me."

James laughed, joy filling his heart.

"You really are not the one I want to kiss right now."

"It's a good idea," Rabastan said. "Kissing I mean. It grounds you. You should go to your bird."

James nodded and then shook his head. "No bird to go to," he said, remembering that their relationship was a secret at the last minute. " _A bird_ would do."

Rabastan laughed silently. "Right, let's get out of here, nothing more to do."

James nodded and readied to follow Rabastan. Then he heard it. It was coming from upstairs.

"Wait," he said, suddenly alert. "Wait here."

He started to move, finding the stairs. He noticed Rabastan following him and turned to look at the man. "I think I heard something, probably a pet. I'll check it. You stay here, just in case."

Rabastan nodded and allowed James to climb the stairs by himself. James followed the tiny noise he had heard and pushed open the door of a dark room.

" _Meow._ "

It was a cat, no, a kitten. James stopped and the little creature rubbed its head on his dragon hide boots.

"Hey there little fella," James said crouching. He picked the kitten with his hand and marvelled at how tiny it was. Its fur was almost a silvery colour with black stripes surrounding its body. "Are you a boy or a girl then?" He checked between the kitten's hind legs. "A boy, huh? Very handsome too. Wanna come with me?"

He tucked the kitten close to his chest and started to walk back where he came from.

"Just a kitten!" he shouted down to Rabastan. "Just a kitten," he mumbled to himself. He ran down the stairs two at once. "Hey, would you check if there is any food for the cat?"

Rabastan looked at him and the kitten in his arms. "Are you taking that thing with you?"

"Yeah, well, can't leave him here can I?" James said noticing that Rabastan would actually not check if there was any food for the cat. He sighed and moved to the kitchen, not even noticing the man he just had killed. He opened few cupboards, and finally found a bright pink packaging of _Madame Curano's Happy Familiar: Magical Food for your Magical Pet._ He grabbed it and went back to the hall. "Found it," he notified Rabastan.

The man shook his head disapprovingly but remained silent, instead opting for opening the door and getting out of the house.

"Wanna do the honours, Mr Kitty-Lover?"

"The honours?" James asked, confused.

"There is one final thing that we must do."

 _Oh,_ James thought, _that._ Lifting his head he looked at the clear night sky and inhaled the crisp weather. The night was beautiful and carried that unique smell that only belonged to a summer night. The kitten, _Balthasar_ , he named him mentally, was secure under his arm, already purring like he was home. He lifted his wand and aimed at at the top of the roof.

" _MORSMORDE!_ "

* * *

 **Thank you to one of a kind Calebski for reading this story. I'd never post it without her help.**

 **And special thanks to all of you who review and favourite as well. You are amazing.**

 **Hope you'll enjoy this and that it's worth the wait.**

 **Love,**

 **Synoir**


	8. Family First

**06**

 **Family First**

Peter looked at himself in the mirror one last time. He almost didn't recognise the boy that was looking back at him in fine silk dress robes that he was wearing. He was glad that his mother had bought them for his graduation, or he wasn't sure if he'd be able to afford new ones.

"Ready Pete?" James shouted from the living room. Peter sighed and moved towards the door of his small room in the Serpent Cottage. He went and saw that his friend was ready, wearing black dress robes with silver details.

"Looking like a proper ward of House Black, don't I?" James said, winking at Peter.

Peter chuckled.

"And I look like I stole some garments from a rich man's closet," he said.

"No, mate, it suits you," James said, although Peter didn't agree. "It's because you aren't used to wearing these fancy stuff. We'll make a gentleman out of you, don't you worry."

"Huh, didn't know I wanted that," Peter said, then to change the subject he added: "Is Sirius gone then?"

"Yep, he left early to pick up the French bird Lucius found for him."

"Found?" Peter asked, grinning a little at his friend's word choice.

"I think she is some cousin from his mother's side or something," James said and took some Floo Powder into his hands. "Don't forget: Blackhall in Wales," he reminded Peter, and the latter nodded.

"I think I can memorise that," he said cheekily. "So do you think there is a wedding on the horizon then?"

"Not unless Lord Black tells him so," James shrugged as he stepped into the floo, and he was gone with a swoosh of a green blaze.

Peter sighed eyeing the clock above the mantle. He had five more minutes before it was his time to pass. He checked his invitation to make sure he got the time right. He had. He considered sitting down to wait but was worried that he'd miss it or worse, wrinkle his robes. He would already look like he didn't belong there, no need to make a bad situation worse.

The clock ticked slowly, but even then Peter didn't move until the full five minutes passed. At the last second, he remembered that he'd need to take some floo powder. He clumsily hurried to get a handful of it, relieved that he didn't spill it on his robes and hastily jumped into the fireplace. As he threw the powder and shouted his destination, his mind quietly wondered what would the soot from the floo do to his silk robes, and whether or he stood still in front of the fireplace five minutes straight for no reason at all.

With a flash of light and mild nausea caused by the travel, he stepped out of the floo swiftly and steadily stepped on the solid ground.

The big crystal chandelier that was hanging without any handles up in the air was the first thing he noticed. It was glittering with what seemed like a thousand lights and it brightened the whole room. His mouth fell open as he realised _this_ was Sirius' future. This room, a single room in this place that you could fit a house in, the silk carpet that was covering the floor, the paintings that were watching the guests entering the manor using the grand fireplace… These were going to belong to Sirius one day.

 _Why is he even friends with me,_ Peter found himself wondering. He didn't need Peter, not when he had all of this.

"Sir," a voice called, and Peter noticed he was being addressed to. He turned and saw a balding man on the taller side with immaculate black robes with his wand out. "May I clear the soot?"

Peter looked at himself and nodded dumbly. The man, who Peter thought was probably some sort of valet, if that was the word for it, pretended to not notice Peter's stricken demeanour and with a lazy swing of his wand cleaned his robes.

"Th-thank you," Peter rasped out, thinking of clearing his throat only after. The man bowed his head slightly and went on to help the person that was behind Peter.

He moved on, not sure where he should go and was relaxed when he heard the familiar voice of Sirius called for him.

"PETE!" his friend yelled, and Peter couldn't help but look around to see if anyone noticed his friend's extravagant behaviour, feeling embarrassed. Although if there was anyone who was allowed to act such a way in this place, it'd be Sirius. _This is his life_ , his mind reminded him. _This is his world that you've never been a part of._

Until this day, that was. Sirius had never talked about his home life in detail. Well, at least not in detail enough for Peter to guess how extensive their family vaults were. Peter wondered if his friend was trying to be modest or if he really didn't notice how rich he actually was.

"Hey, Sirius," Peter answered his friend who opened his arms in greeting. He could feel several eyes on him, calculating and trying to figure out who exactly was the newcomer.

Sirius hugged Peter without skipping a beat. "Right after James came Evan snatched him. He told me to find you."

"What would I do without you, eh?" Peter asked his friend, only half joking. Sirius grinned. "So, where is your date?"

"She was in the reception hall when I left," Sirius explained as they walked out of the room that Peter dubbed as _the entrance hall_ in his mind.

They stepped into what must be the reception hall and as they crossed the threshold the music filled Peter's ears. His eyes immediately found the source of it; the small band with one of the most gorgeous women he had ever laid eyes on singing a cheery song. There were a handful of people in front of the stage, some holding drinks in their hands and lazily swinging and some moving around with their partners, dancing to the tune. Peter immediately felt like _those_ were the people that enjoyed being here. They looked happy.

Sirius and Peter quickly found James who was animatedly talking with Evan Rosier, holding a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. Peter silently considered if James was being smart by drinking firewhiskey for he knew all too well how drunk his friend could get. There had been an accident involving firewhiskey, Prongs, and antlers stuck between iron fences. It hadn't been nice, sure James laughed about it now, but it wouldn't do good to turn into a stag in front of all these guests.

At least his form didn't get stuck in places. Rats were surprisingly flexible.

Evan greeted him with a quick grin and _"Why, hello there, Pettigrew,"_ and James grabbed another glass of firewhiskey from a tray that was floating in the air nearby, placing it in Peter's hands so fast he had no chance but to hold it lest it spilt on his robes.

He had to drink it now, it was one of the stupidest rules they had ever come up with. If you held a drink you had to drink it. There was that one time that he had to drink three pepper-up potions when they introduced the rule, and he'd been high on it for a whole weekend. At least this time it was only firewhiskey. He frowned at James who was grinning at him stupidly and Peter sighed.

"To your health, Prongs."

"He'll need it," Sirius said, chuckling.

"We all need it," Evan mumbled into his drink, scanning the crowd. Peter followed his gaze, watching the people who were at home surrounded by all this glamour, and it fascinated him. It was as if the war outside didn't even exist.

"How are they so…" he began and Evan finished for him.

"Fearless? Careless?" the young man asked with half a smirk. "Stupid? Unaware? Blind?"

"Right, we get it," James cut the older boy, chuckling. "You don't like them."

"That's right, I don't," Evan said looking over the heads of people around them. "Look at them flirting and dancing, and what are they doing for the progression of our world? _Nothing._ Some of these people actually work with Muggles, you know."

"You are here too," Peter mumbled, immediately wishing he hadn't. Sirius snickered biting his thumb, while James let out a loud laughter. To Peter's comfort, Evan didn't seem too bothered with his comment. He just snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but _I_ actually do something, don't I?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "I'm not going to leave this party and go to my vacation home in some forsaken island and pretend like drinking mango juice makes me untouchable."

Peter couldn't help himself, he chuckled. "I like mango juice," he blurted.

That, too, made them laugh, to Peter's surprise. In a second both James and Sirius were raising their glasses to him, Evan quickly following their example.

"To the untouchable Peter Pettigrew!" James exclaimed, bit too loudly in Peter's opinion.

"Hear, hear!" Sirius shouted.

Peter felt like everyone in the large gathering was looking at them, and neither of his friends seemed to notice the attention they were gathering. They were used to it, Peter realised. They were used to doing what they want and be accepted as they were. They were from powerful families, hell, they were powerful themselves. They never had to worry about who would look at them with contempt, because in this reality that was cut off from their school life, no one would dare to. They could ignore the looks they were getting, be unaware of it even, while Peter's hands sweated so much that he could barely hold his glass.

"Come on Pete," Sirius said. "I need to say 'hullo' to Granny, and she wanted to meet with you."

Peter nodded, suddenly feeling nauseous and regretting drinking the firewhiskey as much as he did know he would have to meet with Lady Black, and probably her husband too. He had seen Walburga Black when she came to pick Sirius and Regulus from the compartments, and she'd been cool and distant when Peter met her. He didn't _expect_ Melania Black to be the same, but on the other hand, he really did _fear_ that it would be the case.

During their short walk Sirius was interrupted many times, and each time he stopped stoically, looking like a stranger to Peter's eyes. He introduced Peter as _'my very good friend Peter Pettigrew,'_ and ended the conversation with a variation of _'please excuse us, Grandmother wanted to talk to Pete about something,'_ giving the impression to them that Peter was much more familiar with the Blacks than he actually was.

 _I am close to the Blacks,_ he had to remind himself, _I am Sirius' brother -or as good as; I'm a Marauder._

And that he was. Nothing would change that, after all.

They were a family.

* * *

"I wonder sometimes why you never date," Evan half-asked with a drawl and a side glance at James, as soon as Pete and Sirius disappeared to the crowd.

James shrugged, it was an easy enough question to answer without telling much of a lie. "Probably because everyone that I'd consider dating would be more interested in my vaults than I."

"Find someone richer than you, then, shouldn't be too hard," Evan said with a smug grin. "Or a man. You can't marry a man."

"Is this your way of flirting with me?" James grinned at his friend.

Evan sighed and shrugged, then wiggling his eyebrows comically he added: "You caught me."

James looked at Evan, knowing the man was probably telling the truth. "You are not really my type."

"Not muddy enough?" Evan said with a mocking sneer. He sipped his drink, his eyes still on James.

James snorted.

"Something like that," he said. "Why don't _you_ ever have a date?"

"Because you'd never accept it."

James turned to him to see that the man was looking at him with curiosity; there was a question that he didn't ask, that he didn't need to. James would answer it whatever he'd say.

"That's true, you know," James said. "I wouldn't be able to."

"Able, you say. Are you taken then, James Potter?" Evan said, his hand gripping the glass that contained his firewhiskey, his knuckles turning white, no doubt showing much more emotion than he'd intended to. James sighed, unable to deny it. He couldn't lie to him. Evan was one of the few people that never tried to cheat people.

"Fuck, you _are_ ," Evan hissed. "Are you fucking insane?" He took a step towards James, his eyes open with surprise and fear. "Evans? Is it Evans?" James knew that he shouldn't have averted his eyes. "It is! You are with _Muddy Evans?_ If Dark Lord would find out-"

James faced him. "There is _nothing_ for him to find out, Rosier. And don't call her that."

He, of course, shouldn't have added the last bit. _Damn._

"What? Muddy? That's what she is!" Evan's exhaled and shook his head. "A fuck! You are going to die for a fuck. I hope it's worth it, you idiot."

"I'm not together with her," James said, but even as he said it he knew he didn't sound believable.

"Of course you aren't," Evan said with a sigh. Then he gulped down his drink, the sudden rush of alcohol colouring his cheeks. "I will _not_ rat you out. You are my friend, a nuisance, but a friend nonetheless. Pray that the Dark Lord won't ask me a direct question about it, though. _Idiot_."

James didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. Thanking him would be accepting his relationship with Lily, but so would silence. He opened his mouth to talk, to deny, but Evan cut him off.

"Don't fucking say a word, you pixie brained goat."

"I could take you out to dinner?" James said, suddenly grinning. Evan looked at him with contempt, his face was a mockery of disgust. "You know, to prove that I'm not dating anyone."

" _Please,_ " Evan said, affronted. "I deserve better."

"That is probably true," James said, and Evan sighed, deeply.

"I need another drink, and I need to get away from _you,_ Potter. Lest I catch moron." He scratched his neck until he left red marks on his skin. His eyes met James' for a second, and out of nervousness, James stood still, unmoving. "Fuck," Evan said again, and it was full of pity.

Then he was gone, walking among the crowd, heading for the balcony; running from James.

Knowing he had done nothing wrong, James tried to ignore the guilt that wrapped at his heart.

"There is nothing to be done," he heard the high-pitched voice that had been a comfort to him many times and turned towards it.

"Hullo, mum," he greeted her, holding her hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. He knew she hadn't heard anything about Lily. She wouldn't be this calm if she had. "You look beautiful."

Walburga allowed her hand to be kissed and smiled at him. A rare gift from her, and sure enough, it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Evan is a romantic. You don't need such trivialities," Walburga said, her posture perfectly straight, shoulders high, and chin held upwards. She looked at her side, with the tiniest shrug. "All Rosiers are romantics."

James smiled mischievously, taking Walburga's hand and placing it on the crook of his arm, starting to walk with her. "And Blacks aren't?"

Walburga snorted. "It's not the same," she said, eyeing disdainfully at a woman wearing an atrocious pink robe who looked like she had _paid_ someone to be invited here. James, though, ignored it and instead chuckled at Walburga's response.

"What do I need, then?" he asked her with a smile. "If not romance?"

"You need a mother for your child," she said, in a voice that would accept no argument, something that never stopped James from arguing.

"If Evan Rosier was a woman, you'd tell me to marry her," James said. "Even if she'd be a romantic."

Walburga eyed him calculatingly for a few seconds. "You aren't interested in him. You aren't interested in men. Not like Sirius." James halted for a moment, unable to hide his surprise. _How did she know?_ But before he could say anything, Walburga's nose rose even higher and she looked at him like he was the stupidest person she had ever laid her eyes on. "He is my son, James. I know. Mothers always know. If they don't, it's because they don't want to."

"Perhaps…" he said, not knowing what to say without betraying Sirius' trust. "He is not only interested in men, though."

"Of course he isn't," Walburga waved him off. "You think I haven't heard what he was up to in Hogwarts?" She raised a single eyebrow, creating a perfect arch over the bony lines of her face. She shook her head. "Do not worry, I shan't ask for details. I know you'd never share anything given to you in perfect trust. And, Sirius is not what we are talking about. You are."

"You are planning to marry me off before you make sure Sirius has an heir?" James said with a grin. "Why, mum, I never thought I'd be the most cherished son. I had settled for just a smile from you, and you are giving me the world…"

"Stop this nonsense, James," she said impatiently, her voice gaining a shrill edge. "Sirius will marry eventually, he knows it. His paramours know it. You know it. What I don't know is _you_." She stopped and turned to him. "I'll be disappointed in you if you refuse to get married. Your children will grow up with my grandchildren, and they will carry our great Houses to glory. I will _imperio_ you, if I must, and bind you to a witch I see fit."

"Oh, I have no doubt that you would," James snickered. He was sure of it, in fact.

"Good. I'm glad we talked," she said extracting her hand from his arm. "Go and say hello to Orion, I'm sure you two have things to talk about." Suddenly her fingers wound around his arm, right above his Dark Mark. "I am proud of you, but promise me one thing, James."

James looked into her pale eyes that were looking at him unblinking and sharp like razors. "Anything," he said, his voice cracking up with emotion.

"Family comes first," she said.

James closed his eyes, swallowing his nerves, allowing the words to wash over him like a healing potion. _Family._ A concept he hated at first: that word had been his chain for so long. A chain that tried to rein him in, that tried to control him, to bind him to things he had not wished for. Then one night Walburga Black had opened the door, looked at him and told him that he would never go back there. _'Not now, not when there is fire in the hearths of Blacks,'_ James heard the words ringing in his ears. A promise like that was binding, he knew. She had meant it: A Witch's Promise. She hadn't smiled like Euphemia, whose smile had been nothing but lies. Walburga had been cold and distant. She hadn't hugged him in comfort. There had been no sincerities learnt by imitation.

He put his hand over Walburga's, squeezing it firmly. He looked into her eyes.

"Family comes first," he said and he felt the tingling of magic, binding him to his promise, to _Walburga_. To his real mother.

She nodded once. It was enough for her. James leaned in and kissed her cheek softly and she graciously accepted it.

"Go now," she said, her voice ice-cold to stranger ears, but not to James. Never to James. "And stop being so sentimental."

* * *

Melania Black was an imposing woman, to say the least. She was tall and Peter a short man, so she looked slightly downwards at him, but her focus didn't stay on him for long. Instead, she turned to Sirius, giving Peter enough time to observe her. She was lean, and graceful in a way that Peter couldn't begin to understand. She must have been the most beautiful woman around when she was younger, she still was exceptional. The wrinkles of her face were unable to hide her big brown eyes, and her eyebrows were like crowns for each shining orb. She was wearing deep blue robes and a diamond choker, and Peter was sure together they had cost more than the house his family owned.

She was smiling. It was a disarming smile, so easy on her face, like it never went away.

Sirius suavely bowed before her, respectfully taking her hand in his, and kissed her knuckles.

"My Lady, light of our House," he said in reverence. Peter watched him as if he was witnessing an old Wizarding Hero from tales that he had read when he was a kid came to life. Sirius straightened his back and looked into the eyes of Lady Black with a faint smile on his lips and eyes crinkling in the corners. He looked at her so earnestly, Peter felt his heart tug. "How are you?"

She smiled even deeper upon hearing her grandson's greeting.

"My darling Sirius," she said. "I feel much better now that I've seen you. You barely have time for your grandmother while you're off doing whatever mischief you are brewing this time."

Sirius laughed heartily at that, winking at her. "It's the king of all pranks, I assure you, my Lady. It will not disappoint."

Peter watched in wonder as Melania Black rolled her eyes like a little girl, and turned to him.

"Introduce me to your friend, then, darling," she said, and her smile had never once faltered, even when she was looking at Peter. How different she was then Walburga.

Why did that surprise Peter?

"Right, forgive me. So rude of me," Sirius said. "Grandmother, this is Peter Pettigrew. A man I'm proud to call my friend. Peter, meet my grandmother Lady Melania Black."

"I'm enchanted, Ma'am," Peter said, and imitating Sirius he bowed as best as he could and took her hand in his, hoping he was doing the right thing. He swiftly kissed her knuckles and rose.

When he looked up he saw that her smile had grown.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Pettigrew. I've heard many good things about you."

"Exaggerations, I'm sure," Peter choked out, he could feel his cheeks heating with embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sure not," Lady Black returned, then turned to Sirius. "Sirius, be a darling and fetch me a drink. I'm sure Mr Pettigrew here will keep me good company."

"Of course," Sirius said, and threw a wink at Peter. "Don't flirt much, tiger."

Peter wanted the ground to swallow him.

"Don't tease him, darling," Lady Black said with a chuckle. "He'll be a gentleman."

"Certainly," Peter managed to say.

Sirius laughed, but didn't comment. Instead, he just walked away to do as his Lady bid him. Peter relaxed by the friendly manner of Lady Black watched his friend go, and when he once again turned towards Melania Black, he noticed he was quick to lose his worries.

She wasn't smiling anymore.

"Will you join the Dark Lord?" she asked without preamble.

Peter tried not to choke.

"Uh, I don't know -My Lady."

She snorted and even that looked elegant on her.

"You will," she ordered her voice stern. "If my grandson did, and he, a Black, is _Marked_ , who are you to even consider not being right on his heels? Are you not loyal, Mr Pettigrew?"

"Sirius is my friend," Peter said, not knowing what to feel about the woman's words. Was he to be Sirius' squire, in this woman's eyes?

"Friends," the woman said like the word had no meaning. "I had friends at your age. Many of them betrayed me, and I betrayed many of them in return. Friendship does not mean loyalty, Mr Pettigrew."

"I am loyal to Sirius," he said. He considered adding _'and Sirius is loyal to me,'_ but he didn't think that was what Lady Black wanted to hear.

"Good. I'll introduce you to Anwell Selwyn, he is in need of an assistant," she said like the deal was already sealed. "A respectable man that has many connections. Once you start to work for him, getting the attention of the Dark Lord will not be an issue."

Peter wondered what it was that this Anwell Selwyn did for a living to require an assistant. "Of course, my Lady," he said.

The smile on Lady Black's face was suddenly back, and Peter thought that he must have pleased her with his response until he noticed that Sirius was back with her drink.

She graciously accepted it from her grandson who winked at Peter playfully, and informed him that Peter was such a charming man and that she was considering to introduce him to Mr Selwyn -did Sirius remember him?

Sirius unaware of the tense conversation that he just had with the Lady Black seemed cheerful, almost happy that his grandmother seemed to like his friend. Peter cursed his luck, there was no way he could warn Sirius about his grandmother's machinations.

Would that even disturb him?

* * *

Bellatrix was watching Peter Pettigrew. It seemed like, to Regulus, that she was shifting between wanting to zap him out of existence to try to understand the fourth Marauder's purpose of being here. Regulus picked up a drink for Bella and walked towards her.

"You alright, cuz?" he asked and Bella turned to him suddenly, her wild hair flying with the motion. The moment her eyes landed on him a bright smile adorned her face, and voice took a high-pitched, childlike timbre.

"Regulus! You are _so tall!_ " she exclaimed, and hugged him. He hugged her back awkwardly with his hands holding drinks. Bellatrix was a strong woman, and easily entrapped Regulus within the confines of her arms, not letting go. He had a feeling that she was still watching Pettigrew.

"Uh, Bella… Could you?" he asked, and the woman hastily let go of him, eyeing him tip to toe.

"When did you grow so much?" she asked, her tone accusative, like Regulus, had somehow offended her by growing taller.

"Sometime between last year and this, I suppose," he said.

Bellatrix snorted to show her displeasure but didn't press the issue, and with Bellatrix, any issue could be pressing. Instead, her eyes got fixed on the scene before her once again, watching Peter Pettigrew fumble through a conversation with Gran and Sirius.

Regulus wondered what they were talking about. Gran would roast Peter Pettigrew and eat him up before the pudgy boy noticed what was happening, and everyone thought the woman a dear. What was Sirius playing at?

"Is that Pettigrew then?" Bella asked.

Regulus looked at her. Bella's eyes were narrowed, her mouth was in a thin line, and at least a couple of tendrils of her hair was sparkling. _Now isn't that curious…_

"Yes," he said carefully, watching her every movement just to be sure she didn't do something unseemly. Regulus sometimes thought she would be worse than Mad Lettie, although Aunt Lettie had been a Bulstrode before a Black, and her madness was not on par with Black madness.

No, Regulus decided. Bella would be much more dangerous than Violetta Black.

"Is he a pureblood?" she asked.

"I am not sure," Regulus frowned. "Certainly not as pure as our family."

"Of course not," Bellatrix said. "No one is purer than Blacks and Lestranges."

 _If we don't count the rest of the Twenty-Eight Houses,_ Regulus thought. It wouldn't even be the end of the list.

"Well, for what it's worth, both of his parents are magical, and neither is a mudblood. That's all I know."

"I don't like him," Bellatrix whispered, deepening Regulus' frown.

"Why?" he asked carefully.

"Why, indeed!" Bella turned to him, her eyes blazing. "I certainly should like him more than that werewolf!"

Regulus felt the blood leaving his face, as he registered what Bella was saying. She wasn't being discreet either. Regulus felt few eyes turning towards them.

"Bellatrix," he said in a soothing voice and for a moment he thought it would not work. She seemed so ready to shout to the world all about Remus Lupin. He quickly put a hand on her arm, his eyes scanning the room to meet with Rodolphus', who had noticed his wife's agitation. "We do what our magic tells us," he told her while Rodolphus started to move towards them.

Bellatrix huffed a long breath.

"My thumbs are prickling," she told Regulus, her gaze piercing his.

Regulus bit his lip.

Bellatrix was half Rosier, and Rosiers were known to be incredibly superstitious. Evan Rosier had issues with walking below a staircase, which had been a serious hindrance for him in such a place as Hogwarts. Narcissa would never take a knife from someone else's person, even if it was a butter knife. Bellatrix was much the same. But also, she was the most intuitive one among them and when it came to magic, you didn't discard anything until you knew it was untrue.

"I'll watch him," he promised her. Bellatrix held his gaze for a whole minute, then nodded.

"You've grown, Regulus."

She had whispered the words, and maybe there was a little sorrow hidden behind them. Regulus just shrugged, but deep inside he worried.

"Regulus," he heard Rodolphus greeting him, and Regulus nodded to the man. He turned to his wife. "My Bella, would you dance with me?"

Bellatrix' worries seemed to disappear as her face alighted and she let out a laugh, following her husband. Regulus shook his head, at least her husband knew what to do with Bella. They were a good couple. Lunatics, perhaps, but still.

His eyes scanned the crowd, as he always did. He had no date, no one to entertain. If he did, like Sirius had, he wouldn't ignore them all night and leave them alone to flirt with anyone that came upon their way. And their mother actually expected his brother to find a bride worthy of House of Black. Not very likely.

Regulus snorted and took a sip of his drink, noticing both of his hands were full. He had forgotten to give Bella his drink. He sighed dejectedly.

Of course, there wasn't anyone to give it to or no place to put it down. He stood there not knowing what to do for a while, he looked around to hopefully find a pretty girl, or a woman, really, to maybe offer the drink. Like a proper gentleman.

Maybe, like a proper gentleman, he could get laid and then buy them a nice necklace sent it by owl the next day so they wouldn't cry about him using them. Proper gentlemen were, of course, arseholes with manners and galleons. Which probably meant that he was a failure at being a gentleman, he never had truly perfected the art of arseholery. He sighed and didn't move. He just stood there, two drinks in his hands, looking like a proper loser, instead.

He noticed that his father was in a conversation with a short, bearded man and looking at their posture, whatever they were discussing they were agreeing with each other. Regulus slowly categorised the short man's appearance. He was wearing emerald green robes with gold details and black trousers, he had the bushiest eyebrows Regulus had ever seen. He had a tan skin, dark eyes, white hair and black beard with long white strakes… He counted the pureblood families in his head, eliminating them one by one, trying to determine the man's family. There was a brooch that was fastened on his neck… Regulus squinted to see it better. Was it a circle? No, a crescent.

Shafiqs favoured crescents.

This, Regulus decided, must be Ahmed Shafiq. Or maybe his brother, unless he was a distant cousin of the Shafiq family that was trying to find favour with the Blacks; which would be a very wise move if you'd ask Regulus. Either that, or there was a new alliance brewing.

Blacks rarely dealt with Shafiqs in their political dealings. They were not a family that would be on the same page with Blacks, or their usual allies. They weren't exactly on Dumbledore's side, either. They had been notoriously in-between as far as Regulus knew. Shafiqs were the ultimate self-preservationists. They didn't stand in anyone's way, and no one stood in theirs. No one knew where their riches came from, except the weird legend about a well they owned in the Middle East that gave gold instead of water, and they just survived without dealing with any conflict: never the problem, never the solution. Regulus wondered that why would a member of such a family would be seen _agreeing_ with Orion Black in this political climate.

He heard the steps of his grandfather, accompanied by a clicking sound of his cane hitting the ground in perfect harmony.

He frowned, it must be a bad day if Arcturus Black needed a cane. He turned, unable to stop himself from looking at the walking aid in his grandfather's hand.

"Look up, boy," Arcturus said. "You'll offend Lucius if you start thinking canes are abnormal."

Regulus presented the drink in his hand to Arcturus, who lifted a single eyebrow assessing the drink, leaning onto the cane.

"I hope you haven't drunk it," he said.

"Please, grandfather, just take it and save me from the embarrassment of carrying two drinks."

Arcturus took the drink without a single emotion in his face. He sipped and frowned, the wrinkles on his face became more prominent. He didn't like the taste, Regulus assessed, obviously the drink didn't come from his personal collection. "That's Ahmed Shafiq," Arcturus said.

"I guessed as such."

"He skinned a man alive because he insulted his wife."

Regulus wished he hadn't taken a sip from his drink at that exact moment. He coughed loudly. "Really?"

"Yes." It was so matter-of-fact Regulus shivered. "Really and literally. There are ways to keep a man alive and make them endure that."

"What was it?" Regulus asked. "The insult, I mean."

Arcturus grinned. "His first child was stillborn. The man accused Decima Shafiq, a Prewett by birth, of being bad luck on the family."

"Just that?" Regulus was shocked and unable to hide it.

Arcturus nodded. "Insult a Shafiq man and they will laugh with you like you've made the funniest joke. Insult a Shafiq woman, and you'll die a horrible death. It has always been as such. The man deserved death."

"For saying that the woman was bad luck? As far as insults go, I wouldn't say it is worthy of bothering to skin someone _while_ keeping them alive," Regulus said. "Too much work."

"For being stupid," Arcturus explained tapping his cane to the ground three times. "For saying what he had thought, for not knowing it would grant him a death. The cost of ignorance has always been life. Whether by not living or by dying early."

Regulus nodded. "Never insult a Shafiq woman. Got it."

Arcturus laughed. "Good boy."

"Don't Shafiqs have a handful of children?" Regulus said. He had heard Ahmed Shafiq had at least four sons, although he had met none.

"Being wrong usually calls for a death sentence, as well," Arcturus said like he was talking about the weather, then winked at him.

Regulus laughed and met his grandfather's mischievous stare.

"So," he said to the older man. "Do you think I've remained here long enough? Did my duty to Gran? I wished to visit the library."

Arcturus hit the cane on the ground and sipped his drink, then gave his weight on the cane once again, making his shoulder stick out. "You have a decent library in Grimmauld, boy," he said. "Have you finished the books there already?"

Regulus shrugged. "No." He stopped then. "I -I wanted to check something, actually." Which was a lie. He just had missed the place. But if Arcturus needed an excuse...

"Hm." Arcturus looked ahead and seemed to be thinking. "Go ahead. But be careful. If I find you cursed by a book there I may think you should suffer the consequences."

"What? You'd risk me dying? Is it because I'm the second born?" Regulus joked. "Have you forgotten that once _you_ were the spare?"

Arcturus looked at him head to toe.

"Leave before I hit you with my cane," he said. "Next time I see you I'll jinx that mouth of yours. You are lucky that your grandmother would be displeased with me if I'd cause a scene tonight."

"Not because you are an old man that can't lift that stick of yours?" Arcturus glared at him and Regulus chuckled. "Or maybe because you are holding a glass in one hand and a cane in the other? Can't do simple Bugmouth Jinx without a wand, grandpa? And here I thought you were such a remarkable wizard."

"I should forbid you to be in Sirius' presence without a chaperone," Arcturus said and like lightning, he pressed his cane on Regulus' toes. "Off you go, you scoundrel."

Regulus yelped and pulled his foot away from the offending object. "Alright," he said raising his hands. "I'm leaving. Merlin, you are touchy."

"And you are acting like a mudblood," Arcturus said. "It's because they let every sort to Hogwarts. Bad influence runs like a plague."

"Because _back in your day_ it was full of the Twenty-Eights and no one else?"

"Why are you still here, boy?"

* * *

The Blackhall Library, or the Library of Nigellus as it was properly named, was one of Regulus' favourite places in the world. Sirius had named it as _Never-Go Room_ because their parents would constantly tell them never to go there. It hadn't stop them, of course. Regulus remembered how nervous he'd been following his older cousins and brother, tailing them with worry but unable to refuse to go because, well, everyone else was doing it.

Before Andromeda had run off, she'd lead them there and read to them. They would play hide and seek with Bellatrix, something that taught Regulus how unpleasant being caught could be, and once Narcissa had touched a cursed book and her hands were swollen to the size of a cauldron. Red-Hand Cissa, Sirius had mocked her for at least a year after that.

Nothing was so complicated back then. Sirius and Bella weren't Death Eaters, Regulus was just the annoying little one, Narcissa wasn't a dutiful wife, and Andromeda was still family.

He missed that. He missed the times that he was not so alone. Hogwarts, so full of people, had a way of making a person so isolated. Maybe it was how schools worked; you learned for yourself, you took the exams alone, and most importantly the wish to not stand out so you would not be so lonely made it so no one to really know you. People there never would see how you dressed in real life, how you spent your time with your family; they wouldn't know the real you.

He loved Hogwarts, it was home, after all. But it was also a prison, and Regulus was not so naive to believe that the candles of the Great Hall and the hearths of the common rooms were enough to not make it so. It was home because it became home, how else would anyone survive seven years apart from their family?

He moved between the tall bookshelves, comparing this place with the Hogwarts library. He had laughed with his brother in both. He had fought with his brother in both. The day before Bella got married to Rodolphus they had come here and built a fort, held up by magic and Narcissa had read them dirty stories that made him incredibly disturbed at the age twelve to be in the same room with his cousins and brother. But it was at the library of Hogwarts that he had first touched a girl. While he had learned how to transfigure a button to a vial in Hogwarts, and here he had learned how to transfigure someone's heart to stone, well, in theory at least.

Libraries, as silent as they were, were also so full of life.

 _And_ they were dry. That mattered when the outside world was trying to drown you by pouring more rain that it should be sensible.

Regulus chuckled. But then he felt laughter die in his throat.

There was a shimmer that was gone the moment he looked at it.

He turned his head, deliberately not looking, and there it was again, like moonlight hitting the deepest part of the Black Lake. He walked closer, _not looking,_ and he reached with his hand. Slowly.

 _Morgana, protect me,_ he wished silently.

Touching an unknown item in a dwelling of Blacks was not smart. He recalled his grandfather's warning and for a second he thought of not giving into the curiosity. He was not Sirius, after all, who would poke and probe anything that he has seen and then spent weeks on end at the Hospital Wing. He was the sensible one. But then, before he could decide, something touched him and he _looked._

"Hello."

Regulus felt as if he had lost all the blood in his body in a single breath. It wasn't the first time he had seen a ghost, certainly. It wasn't even the first time he had seen a ghost in Blackhall. It was that he didn't know _this_ ghost.

His mind was working so fast, considering the possibilities.

It could very well be a ghost in the library if it was possible to never see one in a place you've spent so much time in, or it could be a visage out of a book; certainly, there were ways to make that possible? Maybe it was an _illusion_ of a ghost that was put there to guide or trap? How did one reveal a ghost to be truly a ghost? Was there a _Homenum Revelio_ for ghosts? He should ask Sirius. Would he have time to ask Sirius? Sirius would know, wouldn't he?

He knew everything.

 _Stop fretting like a child, Black!_

"You've found my books," the ghost said. "My brother will be displeased. He was displeased with me." Its, her, voice changed as she talked. One word dropped from her mouth so melodic and she looked so beautiful, the most beautiful face he had seen. By the second word came out of her both her voice and face changed, a destroyed visage talking with such ferocity and deep hatred.

"Y-your books?" He asked. How could he not ask? _Don't fall into a trap, be smart._

The ghost flew around him, continuing to flicker between the beauty and the monster. She came full circle, once again standing before him and then she was gone, sliding back into the tall bookshelves.

And there it was.

A cabinet, full of books, hidden behind a sandy glass preventing him to see what was inside.

Regulus cursed, not because he was scared. He knew he was going to unlock it and take the books, knowing he was probably going to end up bedridden after a curse hit him because he had done so. And Arcturus Black would keep his promise and make sure he'd suffer the healing process. There'd be no pain potions unless the pain would be unbearable enough to drive him mad or kill him. He knew, but his hands still moved and he pulled out his wand.

He waved his wand, as taught by Sirius, and muttered an advanced unlocking spell. It didn't work. He sighed, relieved and frustrated at the same time. He had to get inside. He had to look at those books.

He was going to.

He started to move his wand once again, probing for the wards that were used. He had always been good with those. Wards, traps, hidden things… He had Sirius and James to thank for that, of course. He had to learn it, or he'd get red dye on him that even his father couldn't get off. Or he'd fall face first on the bushes outside.

Hung by his feet by the chandelier until his mother discovered him.

Eat a chocolate cake that was actually mud full of earthworms.

Avoiding pranks seemed to be an excellent way to develop a useful skillset. You never had a boring day around the Marauders. Frustrating, yes, but not boring and so very useful.

He worked, standing there, carefully plucking every little trap that prevented people to see that bookshelf, that prevented him to be able to unlock it, hoping that he was not unwarding against something that protected people from these books.

What was so dangerous about them that Arcturus Black deemed them untouchable by his family? This library was already full of dark and cursed books. What would drive his grandfather, for he knew it was his grandfather's signature within these wards, to hide _these_ books.

He had to figure it out.

He wondered, idly, if he was being coerced to do something he wouldn't as he reapplied the unlocking spell.

 _Fuck_.

It clicked, and the cabinet creaked open.

* * *

 **As always, many thanks to Calebski, my beloved alpha-reader.**

 **The big news is that this story is nominated for the Best Work in Progress in the Marauders Medals 2017 held by Shrieking Shack Society. I'm immensely honoured and happy. Thank you all! Words can't express how happy I am about this.**

 **I have enjoyed writing about the Black Family immensely. I loved writing the characters in this chapter. Let me know what you think of them!**

 **Also, this chapter may be slightly (!) longer than normal. I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad thing. I just know that I didn't have any desire to shorten it. So, there you go.**

 **See you next time!**

 **Love,**

 **Synoir**


	9. The Cabinet

**8**

 **The Cabinet**

Sirius took another - hopefully discreet - sip of his firewhiskey eyeing the crowd from the corner of the room, hiding from the people and his horrid date.

He should have listened to Remus and taken Isobel after all, since he had no desire to bed the girl Lucius introduced him to. The blond prat probably found it funny that he had found the most lecherous girl in all of Paris. She had already groped him in public, danced _really_ closely to at least three different heirs, drank way too much Champagne, and she laughed at _everything_.

She irked him. And Lucius, the ashen arse, has been smirking whenever he noticed Sirius' distress. Really, though, it was a paltry effort. Lucius could do better than just arranging him a bad date.

Walking as close to the wall as possible to avoid the crowd Sirius crept out onto the balcony. Earlier, he'd stopped to greet people that had recognised him, but by now he had no patience left.

He reached the railings and grasped them until his fingers hurt. It was a clear sky, and from afar he could see several lights from the nearest Muggle village, and the summer night made the stars look as if they were planning to crash the world as a unit. They looked beautiful and scary.

He leaned, pressing his weight over the railings. It was a long fall, he thought, and his body prompted his hands to grasp them even stronger. He wouldn't fall, he knew, but he was still scared. His body was alerting him of the danger with escalation of his heart beat, a little tug under his sternum and change of vision.

He loved it.

Each fear was different than the other. Each fear had its own taste.

As he looked down to the people, he spotted Juliette Allard, his date, snogging a head with dark blond hair. He snorted. _Good for her_.

Sirius started to take a few steps back from the railing, but a palm on his spine stopped him.

His heart started to beat even stronger.

Without warning he felt himself being pushed towards the railings, towards the ground. He reached with his hands, hoping he'll be able to grip the railings he had let go before he started his fall.

Sirius' scream died in his throat as he saw the ground beneath, so far away, but at the same time he felt another hand gripping his shoulder and pulling him back stronger than he had been pushed.

His back met with a man's torso and Sirius' nose could smell the firewhiskey, mint, cucumber and cheese with wheat bread, pine and cigarettes, along with the distinct smell of James with a slight mixture of Prongs.

"Fuck you!" he pushed James away from him, turning around. The other man laughed holding his belly. Sirius couldn't help but grin at his friend. James was drunk. "Really?"

James hit his shoulder roughly and stood next to him.

"Are you brooding then Pads?" James asked when he collected his breath.

"Nah, just watching the scene."

"Shall we go running?" James asked, jumping slightly on his heels.

"You know Pete hates to hang on to your antlers," Sirius reminded him.

Sirius and James often ran in the woods, chasing smaller animals. The few times Peter joined them had not been the best experience for their friend who turned into a rat. The last one had been the worst, poor Wormtail had fallen from James back, by the time James noticed his absence they were quite far away from where Peter was left.

Peter hadn't spoken to either of them for two whole days.

"Right. Forgot about that," James said with a sigh. "I just... This is boring. I've been offered three business proposals, introduced to four eligible girls, and I'm sure a vampire offered me to move in with him and his wife."

"That doesn't sound so boring," Sirius said reaching inside his pockets. He looked around. "Do you see mother around?"

James looked around to be sure. "No, last I saw her she was dancing with Cygnus," he said.

Sirius took his pack of cigarettes out and picked one, giving the pack to James who did the same. Their cigarettes lit magically with two identical sparks when they inhaled.

"Mum told me to get married," James said silently.

Sirius cursed and looked at him. "What are you going to do?"

James snorted. "Scare every eligible witch within an inch of their lives until they're convinced Potter vaults and estates are not worth the trouble?"

"Solid plan," Sirius approved. "Just make sure mother won't notice."

"Which, it appears, is not as easy as it seems."

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"She knows you are shagging blokes."

"Fuck, does she-" Sirius began, but undoubtedly sensing his question James shook his head.

"She didn't say anything about Remus," he said. "She implied that she knows what you've been upto in Hogwarts, but I think she believes it's just fun and games."

This kind of fear, Sirius did not so enjoy.

This fear was a lump in his throat, nausea in his stomach. It was nothing like free falling from the Astronomy Tower with a broom, it was nothing like transfiguring everything in Professor McGonagall's office to mice.

He didn't want his mother to know about Remus, he couldn't fathom how would she react. He didn't want to risk it being bad.

He didn't want to risk seeing his name blown off their tapestry like Andromeda's had.

"Good," he said. "Good."

Better if she was unaware of his relationship with him. Better if she never knew how serious that relationship was.

"Relax, man," James said. "If it disturbed her she'd already do something about it."

"It's not the same," Sirius said. "Remus is different than other people, and she'd know that."

"She only cares you to get married and do your _duty_ ," James inhaled his cigarettes and smoke surrounded him when he puffed out.

"Of course I will," Sirius said. There was no argument about that. "Remus and I talked about it, you know." He saw James nodding at that so he continued. "The problem is that… Trixie knows Remus' _problem_ and now mother knows about -well, it doesn't help my nerves that so many secrets are already out."

James looked at Sirius with a solemn expression.

"We need to be careful," he said under his breath. Sirius could hear him clearly, but no one else would.

"Much more careful than we had been," Sirius said, equally silent. James would hear him. "Especially you."

"Me?" James asked, eyebrows raised.

Sirius raised a single eyebrow and met his eyes.

James had to understand what he meant. He and his sweetheart was not exactly a well-kept secret, considering James had been very open about his advances towards Lily Evans during their Hogwarts years. He had been reckless, as he was wont to be, and loved the spectacle it created.

In another world, James Potter would be a brilliant showman. Unfortunately, in this one they all had to be good soldiers instead.

James sighed dejectedly and leaned onto the railings like Sirius had moments before. Sirius watched his friend look down. From the expression on his face Sirius knew that he understood.

"Evan knows."

Sirius didn't register what the sentence meant the first few seconds.

"What do you mean _Evan knows_?" he whispered leaning towards James.

"I mean, he figured it out." James shrugged. "About me and Li- about me and Red. Nothing to do about it now. I trust him."

Sirius snorted at the last minute nickname James has given to Lily Evans, his mind couldn't help but note the sheer lack of creativity on that regard, even though his heart filled with worry at the same time.

"Fuck," Sirius said and put his back to the railing. He shoved his hair away from his eyes. "Let me recount. Trix knows about Moony, Evan Rosier knows about _Red_ , mother apparently knows that I- that I am-"

He didn't know what to call it.

 _What_ was he? A lecherous man? A debauchee? A _libertine?_

Was there a word that would describe his relationship with Remus?

"That you like sex and fuck anything with two legs?" James prompted.

"I wouldn't go _that_ far," Sirius said imagining all the two legged creatures that were sentient and he _definitely_ would not fuck. "Libertine."

James laughed puffing the smoke he just inhaled and coughed.

"Is that what that's called, then?"

"It's what mother would call it." Sirius glanced at James with a forced smirk.

"A libertine it is," James accepted the word with a nod. "What are we going to do?"

"I don-" Sirius began but he stopped talking. His eyes lifted towards the upper floors and found the windows of the library. Did he just see something?

"What?" James said and looked at where Sirius was looking.

"I need to- there is something in the library," Sirius said and threw the cigarette from the balcony without caring that it was still lit and started to walk inside. He knew James was following him.

"What did you see?" his friend caught up with him and whispered.

"I don't know."

"What _could_ you see?" James asked again.

Sirius didn't say anything. He knew that he didn't need to explain himself to James who already knew the answer would be another _I don't know._

James would come with him anyway.

They moved swiftly among the crowd and his eyes briefly met with Bellatrix. She was watching him like a hawk over Rodolphus' shoulder, he saw her long fingered hand gripping at her husband's shoulder, nails clawed to his robes.

He shook his head and Trixie nodded. She would not follow him. Still, Sirius saw her eyes lifting up towards the ceiling.

 _She feels it too,_ Sirius thought.

The moment they went out of the ballroom Sirius began to run in a slow pace. It took exactly one second for James to do the same.

When they had passed by the last person lingering away from the main event, Sirius started to run in earnest as James sprinted past him, his wand in his hand.

Knowing his friend was faster, Sirius allowed him to gain speed and pulled his wand out and with a muttered spell that he learnt from his grandfather he lit the candles on their way.

The library's doors were open and Sirius' ears were ringing loudly. James muffled their footsteps the moment they stepped in and Sirius cast the revealing charm.

The spell warmed around a body on the ground.

Sirius knew that the body was alive. It had to be for the spell to find him.

Still fear gripped his heart, and this fear _he hated_.

 _Regulus._

Sirius didn't stop to question how he knew that the person on the ground was his brother. He pushed James with his shoulder and ran faster than he ever did in his life towards his goal, cursing with hatred to every bookshelf he had to run around of.

He was pale.

Regulus was pale, _ghastly_ pale, and he was lying sprawled over the ground, his robes cascading around him.

"No!" he heard James' voice behind him and felt him passing him towards their brother, throwing himself onto the ground.

"Is he-" Sirius asked.

He couldn't move.

He registered with a blurry vision that James was checking Regulus' pulse.

 _He is checking his pulse,_ his mind repeated.

His _pulse._

James was checking if his brother was dying. And there was a noise.

A ringing noise, like bells from far away Muggle churches, only further away yet _louder_ in his head. It was coming from the cabinet.

He had never seen that cabinet before, and he knew every crook of this library. Just like he knew every crook of Hogwarts. He had a good memory, the _best_ there was. He could memorise a street that he had only been once, he could quote a book verbatim, he _knew_ that he had never seen this cabinet that stood before him that moon light enlightened like it was pulled towards it.

Magic. _Fucking_ magic.

It vibrated with it. It was the source of the ringing, he deduced. He could feel the cold it resonated, the temptation it bore. He could taste the allure like a bile in his mouth.

This cabinet had hurt his brother.

"Sirius!" he heard James snap at him and Sirius looked down. James' eyes were looking at him with a fierceness he never saw in them. "Get help."

He almost shouted for Remus, only to remember he was not there. He was not anywhere near. Sirius didn't even know where he was.

Sirius' hand tightened around his wand almost painfully and he allowed anger fill him. Gaining clarity over his actions he opened his left palm and put the tip of his wand over it. Silently he cut a long line and muttered the spell that was created for only Blacks to hear.

He didn't mind he was basically breaking a promise allowing a Potter to hear it.

 _He is a Black,_ a voice in his head whispered.

The blood didn't spill but the pain was harsher than any other cut would feel. Magic always took what it needed from the caster, so he didn't heed to it.

James was looking at him with questioning, humourless eyes.

There were several loud crack sheard beyond the doors of the library that made both Sirius and James jump and footsteps were heard, running towards them.

"What did you do?" James asked voice laced with curiosity.

"I-" Sirius stopped realising the stupidity over his actions as it washed over him. Why didn't he just call for Kreacher? "Got help," he said looking to James apologetically and shrugged.

"What do you mean you _got help_?" James asked incredulously, Sirius could see that the action made no sense to James.

He had called the Blacks to himself. He had been taught how to do it right after he had gotten his wand when he was eleven, and not once did he use it or witness it being used. It was extreme, an option for dire situations when there were none. Seeing his brother lying there, seemingly dead, he had thought this was that moment.

It was, in a way, a method close to what the Dark Lord was using with the Dark Mark. Although, if you asked Sirius, the Dark Mark felt much cruder. And much crueler.

"I called the family," Sirius tried to explain but could see that only created more questions in James' constantly overworking mind. The questioning though, was interrupted by the sound of Sirius' mother.

"My boy!"

Sirius saw his mother dash towards them with a wail.

"He is alive," Sirius said and grabbed his mother, stopping her in her tracks.

She was trembling. Sirius had never seen Walburga Black tremble like a cold bird. He held her tighter.

Everyone was there. Orion was moving towards Regulus while their grandfather stood next to Sirius, behind them were Narcissa, Bellatrix and their father Uncle Cygnus. Sirius noted that Lucius was there too, right behind Narcissa, his hand on her shoulder.

A foreign part of his mind was pleased with that.

"Let me go," his mother said, but Sirius didn't listen to her. His focus remained on Regulus, instead. Maybe Walburga wasn't the only one trembling at the sight of the youngest Black so lifeless.

Maybe it was both of them.

"Take your mother over there, Sirius," his father said, pointing at a far corner and at the same time Bellatrix' voice cut over his voice.

"Who would _dare_ to hurt a Black inside these walls?"

"It's the cabinet," Sirius said. Eyes in the room turned to him. He hadn't moved from his spot, aside from making sure his mother didn't get free from his grasp.

"Very well spotted," Arcturus agreed with a sigh. "The cabinet is cursed."

"What curse?" Orion Black demanded from his father as he crouched down next to his son next to James. He checked Regulus' pulse just like James did and then checked if he had a fever.

"Yes, Arcturus," Melania Black's voice chimed like bells. " _What_ curse that you have put in our home hurt my grandson?"

"Not now Mel," Arcturus Black said and for a moment Sirius thought his grandmother would insist for answer, but he could see that Narcissa put her hand on her shoulder to stop her from starting an argument.

"Rockey!" was the next thing that Arcturus Black said, and the House-Elf that used to mend every little scar Sirius had as a child appeared with a crack. The man didn't look at the elf. "Take Regulus to his chamber in Blackhall."

Rockey bowed and didn't speak. He just touched Regulus and together they disappeared.

Sirius' heart constricted.

"Will he be alright?" he asked his grandfather.

"I warned the stupid boy," his grandfather said with a rigid posture. "But yes, he will be alright. Orion, Narcissa. You two go to Regulus' chamber." Orion didn't wait for a second before he _apparated_ out of the library, and Narcissa kissed her husband's cheek before she followed him. "Sirius, you will take care of your mother. Melania, return to our guests please." He turned to James. "Escort her, James."

James nodded and offered his arm to Sirius' grandmother. Melania Black threw a glance at her husband and then to Sirius but took James' arm without a question and allowed to be lead out of the room with grace that only she could display.

James' eyes met with Sirius' for a second. _Later,_ his mouth mimicked and Sirius nodded. They would talk.

"Anything I can do for you Lord Black?" Lucius asked, breaking his silence.

"I would prefer no one would know what happened here today, Lucius," Arcturus said. "My grandson's method of calling for help was bit extreme and I do not imagine our sudden disappearance went unnoticed. If you can ease our guests' worries, I would consider it a great favour."

"Is there anything specific you would prefer me to say?" Lucius asked.

"I'm sure you'll find a suitable excuse."

"Of course," Lucius bowed his head towards Arcturus, but didn't leave.

"And what are we going to do with that blasted cabinet?" said Bellatrix angrily.

"I believe it's better to leave that matter for later, Bella," Lucius said. "Right now, we should leave and deal with the guests so they do not think much of our disappearance. Allow me to escort you back to the ballroom? I'm sure Rodolphus is waiting for your return most anxiously."

Bellatrix seemed to be considering Lucius' words. She looked at Sirius and Sirius nodded at her.

"I will handle the cabinet, Trixie," he promised.

"That, I can accept," Bellatrix declared and took Lucius' offered arm.

"I asked the rest of our clan to stay at the party," Cygnus cut in as Lucius and Bella started to walk away. "They are waiting to hear from me, especially father."

"Go," Arcturus simply said then turned to Sirius, he looked at him for a while, and Sirius allowed the inspection. "We will talk about your methods of using Black magic at a later time."

Sirius nodded, knowing the man was right.

Still, thinking back on how Regulus was sprawled over the floor just moments ago, maybe it wasn't that unpredictable that did act a little carelessly. Didn't he have a duty to his brother? A duty that came with being the older son?

"Take me to Regulus," his mother tried to pry out of his arms.

Sirius looked at Walburga Black. "Not now," he said. "Come on mother, let's sit over there."

"No! You take me to my son, you ungrateful child!"

"They already warded his chamber, mom," he said caressing her arms. She stiffened and he held her tighter. Sirius knew it was taking everything in her to be calm and somewhat collected.

"How do you know that?"

Sirius shrugged. "I know it like I knew that Regulus was in trouble."

* * *

"Where did everyone go?" Peter heard Rosier asking behind him.

Peter looked around, trying to hide that he was doing just that.

Both James and Sirius had disappeared, and then he had seen majority of the Black Family disappear almost in sync. He knew something had happened, he could feel it in his legs that wanted to _run run run._

Rats didn't like danger.

Rats didn't like unfamiliar crowds either.

"I haven't the faintest."

He could feel Evan's gaze on him.

"Well if _you_ don't know, I shouldn't expect to be informed either," Evan said, making Peter feel a little proud. He liked that he thought Peter would know more. He liked that he thought so in a place full of people Evan knew since Salazar knows when. "I'll see what my aunt can say," the other men continued.

"Why would your aunt know anything?" Peter said and Evan snorted.

"Pettigrew, you really need to study members of the Noble Houses. Especially if you are going to work for Mr Selwyn."

"How do you even know that?" Peter asked, surprised. _He_ didn't even met the Selwyn guy yet, and everyone acted like he already had gotten the job.

"Why do you think I am here if not to learn everything I can?" Evan asked with swirl of his hand. He looked down at Peter. "I asked Lady Black what you two talked."

"And she just told you?"

"Of course, she did," Evan said with an eye-roll. "We are friends, Mellie and I. I supply her with antique vases and silk rugs, and she in return offers me her friendship."

Which meant she supplied information.

"Ah."

Evan laughed at Peter. "You really need a fast course in learning how to navigate around these people, you know. Sirius knows it all, but to him it's natural. He hardly thinks about it, and James never gave two knuts about it." He sipped his drink. "And Selwyn will expect you to be good at it."

"I don't even know what will I be doing for the guy," Peter complained. He hated this job more and more. He never wanted it, after all. He'd be happy to work at anywhere else.

"You'll be useful, that's what you'll do," Evan said. "In any case, the reason that my aunt would know what's up with the Blacks is because she is one. Druella Black, born Rosier, wife of Cygnus, mother of Bellatrix and Narcissa, and once upon a time, Andromeda, who is no longer family. "

"Yeah, I heard about that," Peter mumbled. He didn't know Evan was somehow related to Sirius. Did that count as having relations, he wasn't sure. Peter didn't have that many extended family and he wasn't really clear on what counted as related. Did having the same cousins count?

"Yeah, you would," Evan said. "She was the best of the lot. Used to babysit me, you know. Read me stories."

"Sirius had said the same," Peter said. "He was really put out by the whole thing, I remember."

Evan nodded. "Well, she is _persona non grata_ , now. Don't talk about her. Ever."

"You are talking about her now," Peter reminded Evan.

"Well, I'm not an amateur like you," Evan smirked. "You don't know shit, so better err on the side of caution. _Always._ They will not like you." Peter didn't know what to feel about what Evan was saying. He didn't like hearing these things, however true they might be. "You are a halfblood. You aren't a genius like that Snape is with potions, you don't have that charisma that oozes danger like Remus, you aren't rich - which is a shame, really. Rich always trumps all of that. Having galleons is a free pass for anything." Evan turned to him. "What you have is friends. Use that. Be smart. Be nimble. Be whatever you have to be, but please, for the love of everything Slytherin, _learn the fucking craft._ "

Peter stayed silent for a while.

"I think I should thank you for the tip?" he said, only after. Evan snorted and rolled his eyes. How did someone so expressive and rudely honest could ever be what everyone thought as the perfect pureblood scion and even a better Slytherin? Everyone loved this arsehole. It was beginning to grate on Peter's nerves.

"What can I say, I have a weak spot for you Marauders," he grinned at Peter, and it seemed condescending somehow. "I'd use that too, if I were you."

"And what will you use? About me?" Peter asked, immediately regretting opening his mouth at all. He was about to apologise when Evan snorted again, rudely.

"Use? You?" The man chuckled. "What could you possibly have for me to use?"

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Sirius stood before the damned cabinet.

His mother was pacing around nervously, telling him to be careful every few minutes and send a glare his way whenever she turned to walk the other way.

"Can you please allow me to focus?" he asked, as kindly as he could.

"I'm telling you to stay away from that thing," she said in her most authoritative tone. When he was younger Sirius had thought it would never be in him to argue back when she was using that tone.

Things had changed, it seemed.

"You know if I listen to you now," he began turning to her. "I will just come back when you aren't around. Why waste time?"

"That thing hurt my son," Walburga said, voice close to screeching now. "I will not allow it to hurt you either. Don't make me use my wand like you are a little boy."

"Why don't you try," Sirius mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

 _Now_ , she was screeching.

"I'm better at this than Regulus."

His mother snorted at that, not really believing him. Sirius knew it wasn't because she thought he was less competent than Regulus, but rather she didn't believe that anyone their age could be competent at anything. Good thing that she was wrong, Sirius _was_ sort of an expert on magical items.

Sort of, of course was the key word here. He knew he had to be careful dealing with this thing.

"He probably just worked on the wards first," Sirius explained his mother. "Wards can keep the curses at bay, grandfather probably didn't think they would be this easy to break."

"They wouldn't be. Lord Arcturus has written a book on wards."

"Yes, and Regulus probably read it," he sent a glance towards his mother. "Come on, mother. Keep up."

Walburga huffed and crossed her arms.

"Add that to Regulus' own work on wards," Sirius continued. "And yes, he did some work on them. I know because the last time I tried to put a dungbomb on his Hogwarts chest, I couldn't get past them in an _hour_ … It seems little brother had no trouble breaking into wards put by Lord Black, layer by layer."

Which made Sirius proud and a little concerned, but more than either, annoyed.

Regulus had always been a little too solitary. Yes, Sirius always tried dangerous things himself, but he didn't do them alone. Even now, his mother was watching him working on this thing. If it wouldn't be her, and Sirius would prefer that she wasn't watching his every move, it would be one of the Marauders.

Sirius always had someone watching his back. And Regulus, the greatest pain in Sirius' backside, went and did his research alone. He did his experiments alone. He did everything alone, the prat.

One of these days, he was going to end up dead, or permanently damaged, and on that day Sirius was going to be so very _pissed_. There was being reckless, and there was being reckless _and_ stupid. Once Regulus was better, Sirius was going to knock some sense into his thick head.

Sirius took a calming breath and turned to his mother again.

"The titles are obscured," he said to her.

"I don't care what the titles are!" Walburga snapped and Sirius frowned.

"I do."

"Just _burn_ that thing to the ground, Sirius!"

"Is that an order, mother?" Sirius asked coldly, turning back towards the cabinet. "I won't burn it. I want to know whatever information they have in them. This library is full of Dark texts, and yet this is the one that is hidden and protected with a curse that undoubtedly make the goblins of Gringotts salivate with the idea of free food for their poor pet dragon. No. Na-ah. I'm getting in."

He felt Walburga's strong thug on his arm that pulled him back from the cabinet and was surprised with a sudden burning sensation on his cheek.

She had hit him.

His eyes snapped open and looked down on his mother feeling anger rise up his spine and his heart beat exhilarating. He pulled his arm harshly from her grasp.

"What do you think-" he started but he stopped. Walburga, harsh and brutal, had never looked at him with so much fear.

"I said, do not _meddle_ with this Salazar damned _cabinet,"_ she screeched. "I am your mother and you shall _listen_."

Sirius knew he wouldn't listen to her. He hardly ever did.

"Why can't you just trust me with this?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. If Remus was here, he'd tell him to calm down, and Sirius knew he'd listen to him easily. Why was it so much harder to do so himself?

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Walburga said.

"And I don't need to listen to your word."

There was a silence after that. Walburga stepped towards the cabinet and took out her wand.

"Step back," she said and waved the wand once towards the cabinet. There was a loud thud, sounding like a heartbeat and it caused the air around the cabinet to flex like a muscle.

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked, panicked.

"I am going to break the curse on this wretched thing," Walburga said.

"No, come on, mother, you aren't making any sense."

Walburga looked at him, her nose up in the air and eyelashes shading her eyes.

"I am not making any sense?" she asked and huffed. Sirius knew that the argument was already won by her. He sighed defeated.

"Together?" he asked, hoping his mother would accept his offer, although he didn't expect her to do so.

Sure enough, she sniffed and glared at him, eyes screaming _I am risking my life because of you._

Sirius knew it was too late to lie and promise to forget about the thing, she would never buy it now.

Come to think of it, Sirius had little to no idea what his mother's talents were. She used her wand for almost everything. She dressed herself with it, punished Regulus and Sirius with it, made her hair, fixed his father's tie, used it to lift something she accidentally dropped. Walburga Black could never be seen doing anything like a Muggle. _'Why are you crouching like a Muggle? Use your wand, Sirius!'_ she'd snap when he would tie his shoelaces with his hands.

But what did she know about curses, or counter-curses? He had no idea.

"Tell me you had a N.E.W.T on Defence Against the Dark Arts, at the least," he wished aloud.

"Of course, I do," she said, her shoulders squared. "An _Outstanding_ , if you must know. And Charms and Potions. Never cared much about Transfiguration. Useless subject."

Sirius didn't agree, of course. Transfiguration was one of his favourite subjects, undoubtedly his best, too. And he wouldn't call being an animagus _useless._ But he bit his tongue. No use agitating his mother, after all, he didn't really think her mother disliked Transfiguration. She probably was just miserable at it.

So he kept his silence, quite literally biting his own tongue to make it even possible.

But then, he remembered. He had one more card up in his sleeve.

"Mother," he called for her. Walburga didn't look at him. "I promised."

Walburga's wand stayed in the air, a moment before she cast anything. She must have remembered Sirius' promise to Bellatrix that he'd deal with it.

There was nothing more sacred than a promise in her eyes, something Sirius had learned early on. Children often forgot promises, and both Regulus and him had been severely punished whenever that happened.

Walburga turned to Sirius with an unreadable expression on her face. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Together."

* * *

 **Hello dear readers,**

 **Long time no see!**

 **I'm back, and this story is still going strong, although, admittedly slow.**

 **Leave a review if you are still there! It's best to hear from you!**

 **Many thanks to the amazing Calebski for alpha-reading this story.**

See you in the next chapter!

Love, Synoir


	10. The Promise

**09**

 **THE PROMISE**

 _December 1975_

 _Potter House_

James would never flinch when he heard his father's footsteps passing before his room.

He never flinched when his father called him ' _Snake'_ while gulping down the contents of his brandy glass that was never empty. He never flinched when his mother looked at him and averted her eyes without seeing him.

James Potter did not flinch.

He smirked with using only the left side of his lips. He rolled his eyes. He looked down on them.

James would avoid coming over the Potter residence all together if he could. But the only way to see his friends over the winter holidays was to hope his father would forget to put down the Floo wards for the night, or botch them up altogether due to his inebriated state, and James would sneak out in the middle of the night to the Number 12, Grimmauld Place where it felt like his real home.

So he came back. He always did.

Last night the idiot had charmed the whole fireplace magenta instead of warding it. James had no idea how his father's wand still worked for him. If he were a wand he'd long since stop working with a caster like Fleamont Potter.

Of course, James had to accept that saying it aloud had been a mistake. His father had never been a man that could take James' cheek i his stride -well, at least not since he had been sorted to, as his father would put it, "the House that Brought Shame to the Name of Potter and How Could Fleamont Potter Face His Friends Now".

In short, yes, it was stupid of James to point out the incompetence of Fleamont and to his face, too. He was disappointed in himself.

"Even your wand must be ashamed of the botched up magic you constantly perform," James had said. "Say, father, how much does it hurt your pride when you continue to call yourself a wizard?"

Stupid. Unbelievably stupid.

Most of all, because, his father wasn't _exactly_ incompetent, and when he was not completely knackered he could be even called _strong._ In the middle of the day, when James had uttered the words that he should have not, he hadn't been _really_ drunk. It was, after all, that time of the day that Fleamont Potter could be even called _sober_.

See. Stupid.

Especially considering that Fleamont Potter was at his worst when suffering from a hangover when without his go-to sober-up potion that would save him from the horrid headache and nausea. It could have been better if he had been drinking enough to not feel the hangover, but James knew that it was too early for that.

James knew the stages of his father's day intimately.

No, at this time of the day, Fleamont Potter would be angry. Angry at his pounding head, angry at his stupid wife, angry at the fact that it was another unwanted morning that he had to celebrate another unwanted Christmas with his unwanted child that never remained in school during breaks, and most of all, angry at the way James had talked.

And when Fleamont Potter was angry, he took his wand in his hand. Especially now, when he was dying to prove how competent he was with that exact wand to his ungrateful child.

James, of course, did not flinch when his father threatened him with the exact wand James pitied.

Instead, he smirked, raised a single eyebrow and wore the most condescending expression that he could possible have. James knew himself to be rather good at it.

When the first curse hit him right on his chest, James had been busy making fun of his father in his head. Stupid mistake, of course.

This day was a chain of stupid mistakes. He thought he could blame his nerves, his dislike for spending the holiday with his parents, he could even blame his youth. But they were just excuses and excuses were for people like Fleamont Potter or Gryffindors that felt the need to explain their every behavior to feed some sort of a noble ideal that was, more often than not, just too far fetched to be the truth.

No, James wasn't a self fooling idiot and so he could accept his behaviour for what it was: stupidity. Even when the shocks of electricity coursed through his veins, making his heart beat impossibly fast he could accept that fact. It didn't matter that he noticed that he was unable to stand up at the same time he noticed that he had fallen to the ground, he still could use his mind.

A little.

He still tried to find his balance on his two feet, and damned his stupidity once again when he felt the second curse - charm, technically, since it was a fire spell and they were rarely actual curses and when they were they had a fancy name like _fiendfyre_ or something - burn his shoulder.

 _Attack or run_ , he thought, but his mind failed to reach at a conclusion.

James was sure that he must have screamed, since he really and truly hated the feel of burning, the crispy smell of it, and how _bubbly_ his skin felt; how tender it became, like it would never heal. No matter how many times his burns have healed, James still always felt like one day they wouldn't. Unfortunately, his father knew what that did to James, making it his go-to spell for disciplining his son.

His stupidity, of course, didn't end there, why would it? He was on a roll today.

He had no wand. He had left it in his room.

 _Never again,_ James thought as he ducked the third spell, thanking years of Quidditch practice and adrenaline coursing through his system. He barely heard Fleamont's screams proclaiming James a traitor along with other colourful profanities and finally, _finally_ , he started to run.

James' luck returned when he knocked over his mother by the staircase, looking dumbly at the commotion as clueless as ever. He ignored her voice that called out his name indignantly, but he didn't ignore the wand that stuck out of the pocket of her robes.

He didn't know why the idiot woman even carried a wand with her at all, since she hardly used it for anything useful, and definitely never to defend her son. Still, it was a lucky turn for James, and a great time to break the chain of stupidity.

 _No more._

He grabbed the wand, pulling it nimbly from her robes and flicked it, aiming at his father. Using his mother's wand made James feel strangely sullied, like he was betraying his own Mahogany one. He tried to ignore the disturbing feeling or how weak the magic that left from its tip had been along with his mother's desperate cry for her wand.

"My wand!" Exclaimed the woman pathetically.

Stupid bitch cared about her wand, did she?

Anger was a powerful tool and as reluctant as this wand was, it couldn't ignore the command that was fueled with so much of it. His father tripped, snarling as he fell. James didn't like that he had to use harmless spells, unless he was willing to risk trouble with the Aurors. It was a real shame, since now lying on the ground, his father had become the perfect target. It would be so easy to just kill him.

He wished to kill him.

But he'd wait. He'd take his time and he would be smart about it. It meant _this_ was not the time to murder the pathetic worm.

So he turned and climbed the stairs as fast as he could, and he _was_ the fastest person in Hogwarts, reached his door and failing to blast it with the useless wand of his mother, he shouldered it, despite the scorching pain that the contact doubled, the door opened.

He closed the door as his father's steps approached and James threw the strongest repelling ward that he knew of -and it thankfully worked, albeit tentatively. It wouldn't hold for long, not like a spell from his own wand would have, but it would give him several seconds, maybe a minute. James could even spend one of those seconds on letting out a frustrated, pain driven, tearful scream.

Why was he even crying?

It did no good other than blurring his vision and turning breathing into a struggle. He wasn't weak, he didn't need the damned tears. What he needed was to get out of here.

Only if he could breathe.

Just a single, lung filling breath would do, but he didn't have the time. Not to breathe, not to think of a plan; just enough to act. He grabbed the several books scattered around his bed and threw it into his open Hogwarts chest. He snapped the chest close, feeling strangely satisfied when it locked itself.

James was quick. If he had one strength over all it would be how quick he truly was. His vision, blurry with tears and almost tunnel-like due to pain, didn't even slow him down. He didn't think over what to grab, everything that he didn't have inside his chest were already forfeit. There was no time left to be sentimental over _things_. They didn't matter.

No more.

He hoped throwing the chest that had his belongings out the window as soon as he pocketed his wand was not as stupid as it felt. His father was already banging down the door and soon enough it blasted inwards with wood pieces flying all around his room - old room, now, he supposed. Some even stuck into his skin but James tried to ignore the pain. Instead, he dove for his broom as fast as he could and felt a gush appearing on his left arm, blood flowing down from it, but he could deal with that later.

Sentimentality or genius, he didn't know, but he needed his broom. He was the captain of the Quidditch team this year, and he couldn't screw _that_ up, given that this day surely would put a damper on his already begrudgingly given allowance. Also, a broom was a good method of escaping this mess, since he couldn't _apparate_ , and it would be even more stupid to try to reach back to the floo.

"Just where do you think you are going?" his father sputtered at him, his already messy hair getting even messier. James hated how much he looked like his father, as odd a thought it was when being attacked by the same guy.

Things had surprisingly escalated today, hadn't they?

His father's question was valid, James had to give it to him. He didn't know where he was going. He had no idea, in fact. Not like he had any time to come up with a plan before his father started to _teach him a lesson_.

 _Anywhere but here_ , was the only legitimate answer he could give to himself.

" _Crucio,_ " was the only answer his father deserved.

Unfortunately, all the hate and intent he could muster wasn't enough. Even before it reached its target James knew that the spell was weak. Still, he couldn't help but feel strangely, _darkly_ , proud of casting his first Unforgivable. He didn't even care the move was stupid. Wasn't he supposed to be careful not to create trouble with the Aurors?

But today had been the day of stupidity, so why not add one more?

"Why you foul little-"

James didn't let his father finish talking and his next spell, a _stupify_ this time, hit him right on his chest. He damned the inconsistency of the spell work of a wand that did not choose him but he would still take what he was given, since this time spell was even harsher than he had intended. Wands were funny like that.

His father dropped to the ground and his mother shrieked.

"Monty… Monty… Darling…" Euphemia started to chant. But that wasn't what stopped James in his tracks. It was the next thing she said. "Why do you always have to hurt us?" she asked James, looking at him for the first time in a long time. "What did we ever do to deserve _you_?"

James Potter, as expected, did not flinch.

No.

As usual, he smirked. Only, it was a little harder this time.

* * *

Orion Black sat behind his mahogany desk in his spacious study and eyed his sons.

" _Dark times are coming,"_ his father had said to him. " _Rumours of the new Dark Lord is arising, of this Lord Voldemort... Prepare your sons."_

If Arcturus Black was worried, then so was Orion. Blacks were always targeted when Dark Lords were around. It had been the same with Grindelwald, although the Blacks didn't even endorse him beyond meeting few of his followers in several occasions. It did not matter of course. They were always deemed a House to be feared, and Orion felt both a little proud and exasperated by that.

'Prepare your sons,' meant that Orion was to tell them about the box that was placed on the desk.

"What is it?" Sirius said leaning towards it. "It looks -"

"Like nothing important?" Regulus said.

His older son turned and looked at his brother with a smirk. "Which means it certainly is not."

"Obviously," Regulus said.

Orion stopped his smile from forming, enjoying his sons reaching to conclusions. He wondered how far would they go just by looking at the box. He wondered if they'd be able to figure out what it was without touching it. He had a strong feeling even if not spot on, they would come really close to the truth.

"This is called the Black Book," Orion said.

"A grimoire?" Sirius asked and Regulus snorted.

"No, _the_ Grimoire," Regulus said, condescending. "Aren't you listening?"

Sirius huffed, unfazed by his brother's attitude. Orion knew both of them were used to each other's behaviour towards one another -they preferred it so. "It's the same f- it's the same thing!" But then he stopped. "Oh, you mean this is the _Black_ Grimoire."

"Precisely," Orion said at the same time Regulus said "Clearly," making Sirius sneer at him.

Orion did not try to stop the laughter that escaped him upon that.

"Why haven't we seen it before?" Sirius asked.

"Because you can't use it, not yet," Orion explained, caressing the wooden box that carried the tomes of knowledge from hundreds of years. Every spell, potion and formula the Black patriarchs had used, invented and recorded was hidden there. From ancient summoning circles to blood wards, from Dark Magic to sacrificial rites… "Only the Black Patriarch and his Heir can open this box and read these tomes. This can never reach the hands of strangers. Whoever they might be."

"Why are you showing it to us?" Regulus asked suspiciously. "Why now?"

"Because of Lord Voldemort," Sirius said, his eyes fixed on Orion. He was mildly surprised how spot on his son was; but Sirius had always been strangely intuitive, if not as highly logical as Regulus. "He doesn't want Him to have access to this information. And we all know there will be _conflict_ , if not a full blown civil war, and if he and grandfather dies, you and I will be the Patriarch _and_ the Heir," Sirius continued as his eyes turned to Regulus. "It's preparation."

Orion sighed.

"Yes, well, thank you, Sirius," he said. "For explaining it. You are quite right."

"What about Grandpa Pollux and Uncle Cygnus?" Regulus frowned. "They are older, surely they are-"

"They aren't raised by Lord Black and his heir. You are."

Sirius, Orion observed, had paled. Orion didn't blame him. He was proud to notice that it was the only sign that Sirius had shown that proved that the idea terrified him. His just nodded once, his swallow only slightly noticeable.

"Not like this is a surprise," Sirius said, voice still unwavering. "I'd just thought -'tis a bit early."

"Are there dark spells in there?" Regulus suddenly asked, changing the subject. Orion was rather glad that to topic was back to where it should be: teaching.

"What is a dark spell, Regulus?" Orion asked his son.

Regulus wasn't expecting the quiz, apparently, because his eyebrows rose with surprise before he frowned considering the answer.

"I suppose we could argue that they are the ones that ministry has classified as such," he said.

"What method does the Ministry use to determine which spells to classify as dark?" Orion asked.

"Harm," Sirius answered this time. "If the purpose of a spell is to harm a living being, and that is its sole purpose -or if a spell _needs_ to inflict harm to _be_ performed, I suppose Ministry would classify them as dark."

Regulus seemed to agree with his big brother, because he nodded.

"That is a very good explanation," Orion said. "Yes, there are dark spells there. There are spells the Ministry surely would ban if they were to know their existence. But there is more than that. After all there were dark curses, hexes, jinxes, enchantments even before the Ministry, _and_ there were Dark Witches and Wizards then, as well. Spells that were taboos, that inflicted fear, people that others stayed clear of. How do you think they were classified as dark back then?"

"Why would they need to classify it?" Regulus wondered. "I mean, if a wizard is going to harm me, I wouldn't really care if he was to do it with a dark spell or a basic level charm, would I? I'd try to defend myself, or run and hide."

"That's not the point," Sirius cut off his brother's idea. "The point is _they did_ , apparently, whether it was necessary or not. Right?"

Orion nodded. "They certainly did-" he started, but Sirius cut him off as well.

"Fear, then," he said, assured that it was the right answer. "They called the spells dark because they were afraid of them."

Orion accepted his answer with a nod. "Very good conclusion. Fear has always been the reason when ordinary witches and wizards name things. It is a scale they use in almost every classification of a spell. When ordinary witches and wizards rule the magical world, or gain political standing, they allow their fears to judge for them.

"But there is a difference," Orion continued. "Difference between a spell that is called dark, and a spell that is _actually_ Dark. Do any of you know what that difference is?"

Orion could see that his sons were trying to reach an answer that worked well with the fear theory, but he also knew that would not aid them in finding the right answer. He still waited patiently for them to think it over and develop some ideas.

"If they named ordinary spells dark because of fear, it would mean they often classified them wrong?" Regulus questioned, and Orion could see that changed the route Sirius was thinking almost instantly.

"So what would classify a spell as Dark when it is the _right_ category?" he asked aloud. "Not intent, obviously, since that works well with the idea of _fear_ \- which is not the right method."

Orion could almost laugh with glee at his sons quick thinking. They were closer than he had hoped.

"What are the Dark spells we know?" Regulus asked Sirius. "The Unforgivables, _Inferius_ -"

"Fiendfyre, Necromantic spells," Sirius continued. "They must have something in common."

"There _is_ something in common," Orion said, deciding to help them a little.

"They all have different intents, and no matter what the intent they are still considered Dark," Regulus said. "So you must have been right that it is _not_ about intent."

"Yes, I know," Sirius said, waving Regulus off. "And I think I know what they have in common."

"Oh?" Orion was curious. He had a feeling his son would be spot on and he was already proud of that fact.

"Soul," Sirius said and leaned ahead in excitement. "It always comes down to that, doesn't it? It requires will, focus, but also _the caster_. The other spells may get their force from the caster, but a truly Dark spell _uses_ the caster's own soul, doesn't it?"

This time, Orion laughed.

"You two," he said. "You two couldn't make me more proud of you. That is correct. The theory is that a rightly named Dark spell will use the caster's own soul, fracture it, drain it, _take from it_. These spells are Dark, not because they _harm_ an enemy, but because they are believed to harm _magic_ itself ."

"After all, harm and good means nothing on a greater scale," Regulus breathed out. "Death or life, good or bad-"

"Means nothing to magic," Orion finished his son's words.

"How can magic be harmed?" Regulus wondered aloud. "Or soul be fractured? How do you _break_ your soul? Everyone says this like it's so easy to understand, but I never have, not really."

Sirius didn't look at his brother or Orion when he absentmindedly added: "And even if you can," Sirius started. "Why is it such a bad thing?"

This debate interested Orion greatly. These were good questions, hard to answer and required careful thinking.

"Mostly the effects will be instability and it develops a certain addiction to the Dark Magic. It creates a void, I suppose you can name it, and that void can only be filled with similar magic."

His boys remained silent for a while, processing the new information.

"Yes, but," Sirius started with a strange glint in his eye. "Why is a broken soul a bad thing?"

Orion turned to him, unsure of the question. Sirius must have understood that he needed to elaborate.

"I mean, what does a fracture really does to a soul? No, I know - I get that it creates a void; it's fine. What I really want to know is… Let's say -let's say that I broke a plate, right? It's no longer a plate. But from a magical standpoint, it's still a _thing_. Even though its use has changed, it isn't less of _thing_ , is it? It may not be the _same_ thing anymore, but if it still exists why would we care that it's broken? Aside from our attachment to that item, it doesn't really affect much, does it?

"Why would a plate care because its purpose and shape has been altered? Why would soul? Everything changes. Everything in this universe gets constantly broken, reshaped, reused. Why is it a bad thing for your soul to gain a new shape, a new form? It's just -a void is a void. Why should we be afraid of it or of our need to feed it?

"Even a mad mind is a mind, and it still can be a strong mind. Just -I'm sorry but just look at Trixie, yeah? She is half mad and there is no denying she uses Dark Magic with her afternoon tea. But you can't call her weak, or stupid, and you can't ignore her will-power nor her usefulness.

"Why is one thing bad and the other is not. Why would magic care if your soul is whole or not? Isn't everything already connected, where magic is concerned?"

Orion listened to his eldest son, still too young to be thinking these things. He had no definite answers to give him, and he wasn't sure if Sirius needed one. These were not questions that could be answered easily, but to ponder upon. How did a sixteen year old had developed these ideas, and he wasn't sure if he should be afraid for his son or proud of him.

He was disappointed when his son stopped talking when the familiar crack of the House-Elf of the Grimmauld Place appeared inside the study.

"Mistress calls for you, Master," Kreacher bowed low.

Orion looked at the clock on the wall to check if they were late. They weren't. He couldn't fathom why his wife would interrupt their meeting.

"Where?"

"The drawing room, Master."

* * *

When Orion entered his wife's drawing room he found her pacing and mumbling angrily. His initial instinct was to search his memory to find a reason that he'd be the cause of her agitation, and the next was trying to see if it was any reason caused by their sons, which was unlikely since today they had been with him mostly.

" _Traitors… the lot of them… how dare... "_

He barely heard the words dropping from his wife's mouth.

"You have called for me?" he asked politely. He had learned to tread carefully when his wife was angry.

Walburga turned towards him, her robes flying, and Orion could swore that her eyes sparked.

"Orion!" she exclaimed with her high pitched voice. "You will name James Potter your ward!"

Orion halted and looked at his wife more seriously. Something must have happened.

"I believe you will explain the reasons why you think I should do that?"

Walburga scoffed and continued her pacing.

"Isn't it enough the poor boy is being raised by _blood traitors_?" she said. "Surely that would be enough to drive you to do something about it! And now they have gone and attacked him! Salazar knows _how long_ that was going on! They hurt him! He had to _fly_ on his broomstick, Orion, to come here! At this weather! A pureblood boy running from home in that condition! Unacceptable!"

Orion tried to filter all the information being sent by his wife to try to make sense of the situation.

"So James is here?" he asked.

"Of course he is here! Would I send him back, you think?"

"And he ran away from the Potter's house?" he asked, ignoring his wife.

"That is what I am telling you, isn't it?" Walburga yelled. "Aren't you listening to me?"

Orion sighed, his wife needed an answer. Of course he'd ward James Potter, that wasn't even a question. Nevermind that it would be a favourable move that would benefit his House in the future, but he also liked the kid. With all the mischief and recklessness he had in him, he was smart and surely to be a great wizard someday.

He had been a great friend for Sirius, too. They were already like brothers.

"Walburga, I am not refusing your request," he explained. "I am merely trying to understand the severity of the situation."

That made Walburga stop and nod.

"So, Potters have hurt the boy, and he found the solution in running away on a broomstick on a December night?" The weather was frigid. The poor boy must have been cold to the bones. "Is he being taken care of?"

"Of course," Walburga said. "He is having a warm bath now."

"Good," he said and ignored Walburga's scowl. "I will send an owl to father. I'm sure he'll be most pleased. Do not worry, dear. I will not send the boy back."

"You can't anyway," Walburga said, her shoulders stiff and her nose upturned. "I made a promise."

* * *

 **Hello again,**

 **As always million thanks to Calebski for her help and reassurance, also congratulations my dear!**

 **Another background chapter, another look into the lives of young Marauders!**

 **I hope you enjoyed it, if so, please let me know!**

 **I love you all, and see you next time!**

 **Synoir**

 **\- find me on tumblr and say hi**


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